


An Escort's Guide to Navigating Tricky Work Relationships

by HopelessGeek (wuzzy90), Mystrana



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, But everything else is great, DESPITE my BEST efforts, Fake Dating, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Peggy/Steve/Bucky scene, Previous Bucky/Brock relationship, Scott/Steve/Bucky threesome, Smut, and for that i am sorry, escort!au, murder thighs, no under the table blowjobs, one dub con scene in chap 4 (will have additional details in chapter), that scene has light BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-09-07 16:21:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20312455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wuzzy90/pseuds/HopelessGeek, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystrana/pseuds/Mystrana
Summary: Here's the thing. Steve is an outspoken leader of the fight for escort legalization. He's passionate about safe work environments for escorts. He wants to show the world that they have relationships just like everyone else.Here's the other thing. Steve hasn't dated in the past five years because he's been so busy with work. He and his coworker Bucky are the most requested pair at Stark Escort Services.Ah, what the hell. A few more things: Bucky's still not quite recovered from a bad relationship with a boyfriend who degraded his choice of work. And while he can define professional boundaries like it's his job (it is), Bucky's not great at handling his personal life.A story of navigating tricky work relationships in five chapters.





	1. The Art of Illusion

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my escort fake dating au!!! Please grab a drink and some popcorn and enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to Hope for being the most patient collab buddy in the world as I agreed to write for her art, oh, over a year ago. ^^;;; 
> 
> Thanks to [Coop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentCoop/pseuds/AgentCoop) for being such a helpful beta!

# 1

“So I can just, uh, touch you? That’s cool?” Scott’s hand hovered in the air, halfway between an eager reach and hesitation.

Mesmerized by Steve's siren-sweet grin, Scott was helpless to do anything except comply when Steve grabbed his hand and placed it on his naked chest. Scott wasn’t too proud to admit that he squeaked. His face burned from ear to ear as his fingers fit--barely!--around hard muscle. He gave a tentative squeeze, and Steve nodded his encouragement from his spot in front of the bed. The Stark Escorts room they were using was decorated with plush bedding in soft purples, but Scott’s focus was on only Steve.

“Go on, I swear I’m not going to break.” Steve smiled. He leaned closer and pressed his shoulders forward, emphasizing the curve of his chest. “I like it.”

Scott nearly jumped at Steve’s words. His breathing hitched as he ran his fingers across Steve’s broad chest, marveling at the expanse of firm muscle. Steve was completely naked in front of him, and Scott was having trouble processing all of that visible skin and the way Steve’s chest tapered into perfect hips. He was nowhere ready to test if Steve’s ass was as round as it had looked under his pants.

“Uh.” Scott had to close his eyes for a moment. He took a deep, contented breath. “On a scale of one to ten, how annoyed will you be if I come just from playing with your tits?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten someone off with them.” Bucky laughed as he came up behind Scott, draping his arms over his shoulders and pressing his bare skin against Scott with a liquid grace that had a flush spreading down his exposed neck.

“Wow, you guys do not play fair,” Scott managed to say with a laugh. 

When he opened his eyes, his breath came out as a pant; Steve’s perky tits were still right there, and Scott couldn’t stop fondling them. He ran his thumb along the curve of the muscles, trying not to come when he pressed them together and realized he could fuck into that cleavage if he wanted. Scott stared at his hands with wide eyes, amazed that _ he _ was actually touching the chest of escort legend _ Steve Rogers _.

“Yeah, he’s pretty awesome, isn’t he?” Bucky purred against Scott’s ear as he kneaded his shoulders, working away at the tension in the muscle with practiced fingers. “How do you want him? He’d be beautiful bending over for you. Or he’ll let you suck him off if that’s what you want, his pretty cock filling your lovely little mouth.”

Scott closed his eyes with a groan. Bucky smoothed his hands down Scott’s back before digging his thumbs into a knot between his shoulder blades. Scott tensed at the sudden, sharp focus of pressure for a moment before he sighed happily and relaxed into the touch. He opened his eyes to see Steve grinning like a cheshire cat. 

Steve leaned in for the kill, whispering, “I’ll suck you off if you’d like.” Each syllable ignited fire under Scott’s skin. 

“Mmmmm,” Scott breathed out, not sure if he was capable of producing words. His eyelids fluttered as Bucky worked his hands even lower down his back, firm fingers pressing on his hips. “All sounds good. What do you want?”

“It’s all about you, Scott,” Steve murmured, taking Scott’s hand from his chest and bringing the warm fingers to his lips. 

Steve sucked Scott’s finger into his mouth at the same time Bucky brushed a fingertip against his entrance. Scott gasped and groaned, unable to pick a single reaction to the dual wave of sensations sparking across his skin like a storm. 

Pulling Scott’s fingers out of his mouth with a little obscene pop, Steve smiled as he got to his knees, putting him eye level with Scott’s very enthusiastic erection. 

“You are so delightfully responsive,” Steve said, grabbing for something from the nearby table without missing a beat.

“Oh, I-” Scott began, the words blending into a soft groan as Steve leaned in, gripped Scott’s hips, and rolled a condom onto Scott’s cock using nothing but his mouth. “_ Fuck _.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed from behind him, his lube-slicked finger teasing in an inch. 

Scott tried to catch his breath, the mantra _ I will not come yet, I will not come yet _ playing on repeat. 

And then Bucky started talking again, whispering softly in his ear, “If you’re up for it, I’m ready and waiting to fill you up.” 

Scott panted and clung to Steve’s shoulders for support lest his knees give out on him. He whimpered when Steve moaned around his dick. “Jesus. Fuck. Wow. Ok.”

Bucky pressed his finger in a little deeper, soft and patient, and Scott writhed between Bucky’s firm chest and Steve’s warm mouth on his dick. 

“Steve’s really good at this, isn’t he?” Bucky asked, his voice low.

Scott shuddered at the breath against his ear. “Mmm, yes, I--” his voice cut off as Steve slid his hand from his hips to his balls and squeezed softly.

Steve, his mouth full of cock, said nothing, but his eyes sparkled. Scott thought he heard the faint rip of another condom being opened, but he couldn’t figure out how to turn around and look for Bucky. Steve slowed his pace, sucking on just the tip of his cock and flashing that grin that Scott had quickly learned to mean something really good was about to happen. 

Bucky nudged up against him, resting the head of his cock between Scott’s ass, and pushed in just enough to have Scott moaning. 

“Oh, Jesus,” he gasped out as Bucky kept pressing in, careful but absolutely relentless. 

In front of Scott, Steve stopped moving, just held Scott’s cock in his mouth. Every time Bucky pushed in deeper, Scott’s cock twitched in Steve’s mouth and Steve smiled around it like that was the best sensation in the world. It had Scott hanging onto his control by a thread.

“You look amazing between me and Steve like this, all flushed and pretty. You ought to look in a mirror, see how your cock looks in Steve’s mouth from every angle.” Bucky trailed a hand down Scott’s chest, and Scott let out a strangled mewl. “Still doing alright?” Bucky added, soft and gentle.

Scott nodded as though he might not be able to stop once he started. A thick, wonderful heaviness settled into his limbs, his head light like he might be floating. From far away, he heard his voice form syrupy words, “Feels fucking amazing.”

“It’s gonna feel ten times as good when I start moving,” Bucky promised in a low voice, and Scott’s dick twitched in Steve’s mouth again.

Steve relaxed his jaw around Scott’s cock as Bucky drew back. A moment of _ oh my god this is happening _ and then Bucky was thrusting heavily into Scott. Scott gasped, but before he’d caught his breath, Bucky had pulled out and pressed back in. Scott shuddered between the two of them, torn between rocking back against Bucky or wiggling his hips, desperate to get Steve to start sucking his cock again. 

Bucky reached around, put his hands on Steve’s shoulders for leverage, and shoved into Scott with a smooth, heavy thrust, pushing him into Steve’s waiting mouth. 

“Fuck!” Scott cried out, his cock pressing against the back of Steve’s throat. “Oh, fuck, oh, _ fuck. _”

Bucky fucked Scott deep into Steve’s mouth a few more times before slowing down. Scott’s overwhelmed mind had a hazy thought of _ he’s giving Steve a moment to catch his breath _ intermixed with _ holy shit that felt good. _

Thank god for Steve’s steady hands on Scott’s hips, because he wasn’t sure he could stand anymore. Bucky put his hands over Steve’s, twining their fingers together. The secure press of their hands on his skin was dizzying.

Scott whined, reaching back to grope blindly at Bucky. His hand bumped up against the hard expanse of Bucky’s thigh. “Jesus, those thighs.” Scott closed his eyes, his lips parted. “You could fuckin’ murder me with them, please. Fuck.” His breathing was harsh, his voice wrecked. 

“I’ll let you ride them if you ask nicely,” Bucky murmured against Scott’s ear, and Scott’s shiver was a full body experience, a relentless force lighting up every single one of his nerves. 

“Oh, _ fuck_.” Scott stiffened, unable to stop the mounting pressure of his orgasm. He scrambled to grab hold of Steve’s shoulders for balance. “Oh _ god_.” 

He panted, body tense as he came into the condom. Steve swallowed around his dick like he was sucking it all down. Somewhere behind him, Bucky slowed his pace and rocked into him gently until Scott’s dick had stopped pulsing. 

*

Together, Steve and Bucky lead a near-boneless Scott to the bed, helping him sit down between them at the end of the mattress, the silk of the bedding soft underneath them. 

“Damn.” Scott blinked as he started to come back to coherency. “I mean, I’d heard you guys work magic together but. I can’t.” He smiled. “Words. They’re hard.”

Bucky smiled. “Hell yeah, we’re going to take good care of you.” He had one hand working on the muscles of Scott’s lower back again. When he saw Scott glancing at him from the corner of his eyes, his smile turned devilish. “Go ahead. You can touch me.”

Scott nodded, dragging a tentative touch down Bucky’s thigh and inhaling sharply at the way his hand barely covered half of it. 

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Seriously. _ Do _ we have enough time for you to murder me between those thighs?”

“Oh yeah,” Steve answered before Bucky could open his mouth. “We’re yours. Whatever you need, we’re here for you. And I can vouch for his thigh murdering. Very delightful.”

Laughing, Bucky threw a wink in Steve’s direction. “Don’t be an ass, Steve. He can clearly see you’re alive. You’re gonna make him think I can’t do it.” He leaned up close against Scott. “Of course I can.”

Between them, Scott grinned like he’d just been given three wishes. “Wow. You guys. I really couldn’t ask for more.” For a moment, his grin slipped, and he sighed. “I really needed this chance to like, relax. Get out of my head for a minute. Thank you.”

Just like that, Steve shifted closer so that his thigh was pressed up against Scott’s. Bucky shifted back onto the bed, sitting cross legged behind Scott and working his shoulders with a soft massage while Steve wrapped an arm around Scott’s body and guided him to lay his head against Steve’s chest. Scott didn’t resist, just drew in a shuddery breath as he rested against Steve. 

“What’s up?” Steve asked, the words a gentle invitation to share.

“It’s just, I’m having a hard time with custody for my daughter and,” Scott trailed off, snuggling into Steve’s arms as if he didn’t even realize what he was doing. “I’m just scared. They’re gonna keep her away from me if I don’t get everything sorted out and…” 

“It’s tough,” Steve agreed, running his fingers through Scott’s short brown hair. “You’re doing the best you can.”

“I am.” Scott nodded, looking miserable. “I just gotta dig deep and try even harder, you know?” He managed a shaky smile, his face still flushed a beautiful pink from the afterglow of his orgasm.

Bucky hummed in agreement.

“I mean, and wow. I really haven’t told anyone about this until now.” Scott looked a little dazed from his spot against Steve’s bare chest.

“Steve’s got that effect on people,” Bucky murmured, his voice soft like a comfortable blanket. He ran his thumb down Scott’s arm, grabbing his hand. 

Scott glanced over to Bucky and followed his gaze to Steve. “You guys dating?” He clapped a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry! That was rude. Sorry.”

Bucky laughed, and he was probably the only person in the room who noticed the beat before he forced it out. He didn’t quite make eye contact with Steve. “Nah, it’s ok.”

Steve, on the other hand, was ready with an answer. “You’re not the first to ask. We’re not.”

Shifting on the bed, Scott shrugged. “Feels like you guys would make a hell of a couple. I guess that’s part of the act for the job, huh?”

Bucky kept his mouth closed and didn’t bring up the fact that, yes, they were the most requested pair in the entirety of Stark Escorts. 

This time his hesitation was noticeable, and Scott winced. “I’m sorry. I should stop talking. What I’m trying and failing to convey appropriately is that this has been a wonderful evening. Thank you.” 

“Any time,” Bucky said as he brought Scott’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the skin. “It was wonderful having you here tonight.”

Scott perked up. “I really couldn’t have asked for anything else. Thank you.” He smiled at Bucky before turning to Steve. “I just remember watching you on the news. What was it, like, two or three years ago?” He closed his eyes as he remembered. “And that speech you gave! You were all, ‘sex workers have families and friends. And we’re providing a service for your family members and your friends.’ And then they asked you about dating and you were all, ‘sex workers have relationships because we know how to communicate. Communication is the most important part of a relationship.’”

“Yeah, that was the gist of it.” Steve nodded, half a smile on his lips at the way Scott parroted back his old words. “Five years ago next month, when we celebrated winning legalization in New York for sex workers. Stark’s holding another event. I’ll probably have to write another speech.”

Bucky stayed silent. 

Scott got dressed, awkwardly offered them a tip, and then left with a happy smile. Even after the door to the room clicked closed, Steve didn’t reach for his clothes over in the corner and neither did Bucky. 

The silence stretched between them for a long minute before Bucky shrugged and chanced a half-glance Steve’s way. “You heading out?”

Steve yawned, reaching his arms up above his head and twisting from the waist. He didn’t get up from his spot on the bed. “Nah. I’m tired. You?”

The smallest bit of a smile danced on Bucky’s lips. “No. I’m tired, too.” 

Bucky climbed into the bed, a huge king-sized mountain of silky sheets and pillows that were just the right firmness. Every room on the floor boasted the same huge bed with different colored sheets and dressers full of toys that could be accessed for a hefty price bump. Steve rolled over, meeting Bucky in the middle of the giant bed, and Bucky tossed a casual arm over his shoulder. 

The two of them curled up together as Steve sighed. His breath ghosted across Bucky’s ear. “Pepper was wondering when Scott was gonna call in his favor.”

“I’m glad he chose us. Poor guy had more tension in his shoulders than I’ve ever seen.” Bucky shook his head, his hair tickling Steve’s collarbone. 

Steve held Bucky closer. “I think we helped. Always makes me feel good to help people out like that.”

“I thought you were tired, Rogers.” Bucky’s smirk wasn’t something Steve could see, but the teasing way he shifted his shoulders against Steve gave it away just the same.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and Steve tightened his grip around Bucky’s shoulders, the way he always did right before he fell asleep. 

Bucky nuzzled closer, listening to Steve’s heartbeat. He fell asleep to the rise and fall of Steve’s chest.

*

When Bucky woke up, Steve was sprawled out beside him with the blankets kicked halfway down and tangled around one of his legs. It was a mess, but it was so perfectly _ Steve _that Bucky had to smile. It was one of the things Bucky loved best about him.

Too bad he couldn’t tell Steve that. He settled for watching the first rays of sunlight filter through the curtains, bathing Steve’s face in golden light and shining against his blond hair. Bucky sighed, a huff of air that seemed even louder in the quiet of the morning.

Steve cracked an eye, looking over towards Bucky. “Morning, Buck.” 

He looked like a goddamn angel framed by sunshine.

Yeah, Bucky had a problem. He’d had this problem called _ Steve Rogers _ ever since he’d seen him at a legalization rally five years ago, speaking on behalf of the sex workers of New York.

“Morning, Rogers.” He couldn’t hide his grin. “I know you need your beauty sleep and all, but Maria’ll have your hide if you’re late to the meeting.”

Steve groaned and turned over in the bed, twisting the sheet even further around his leg and burying his head under a pillow. “Tell her I’m sick. Tell her I’m throwing up right now.”

Laughing, Bucky tossed a pillow at Steve. It thumped him on the ass. 

“Good aim, Buck. But seriously.” Steve sighed and turned over in the bed, his morning wood on full display. He didn’t seem concerned about Bucky seeing. Then again, Bucky had done a lot more to that beautiful cock than just looking at it. “Mornings are for _ sleep. _ We stay up late for work and they still expect us up at unreasonable hours for meetings?”

Bucky had thought that after two years of working together, Steve’s dick wouldn’t get him so riled up, but it happened every time. It was just so damned pretty, long and thick and the perfect dark shade of pink. Bucky tore his eyes away before Steve could catch him staring and threw himself off the bed, heading for his change of clothes. “Look, legalized jobs mean meetings. It’s just the way of the world. You brought this upon yourself, my friend.” 

He walked off to the shower, listening to Steve groan. It was a lovely sound. Too bad he didn’t have enough time to wash his hair and jerk off to thoughts of Steve’s more than ample erection.

*

“... and congratulations to Sam Wilson for exceeding all targets! Our new employee of the quarter!” Maria Hill smiled graciously as she lead a round of applause. Around the large, airy meeting room, everyone joined in clapping.

Sure, they had meetings just like any reputable company now, but there were a few things different from the meetings Bucky remembered as an intern for a printing company. For one thing, half the participants were dressed for work, like Natasha in her catsuit and Clint in a harness under his half-zipped sweatshirt.

Sam was in his street clothes, a well-fitted green t-shirt and black jeans. Bucky had to admit he was easy on the eyes. Clearly a lot of their clients thought so too. Ducking his head in a show of humility, Sam got his certificate and smiled brightly for the requisite photo.

Bucky tried to catch Sam’s eye to pull a face as Maria continued with the month’s announcements, but Sam knew better than to look his way. 

“Next month is our Legalization Gala. We’re celebrating 5 years and we’re looking for volunteers to speak that evening. Let me know if you want to participate!”

Maria ended the meeting, and Bucky raised an eyebrow at her request for volunteers. On instinct he glanced over to Steve, but Sam was already shoving the certificate in Bucky’s face, covering his field of vision with a blur of crisp white paper and black ink.

“Hmm. What’s this?” Sam asked as though he couldn’t see his name written across the front. “Is it something that confirms my position as on top of you?” He grinned. “Pun intended.”

Laughing, Bucky pushed Sam’s hand away, careful not to bend his certificate. “Ok, ok. You got lucky.” 

“You’re just losing your touch, old man!” Sam playfully shoved Bucky’s shoulder before rolling up the paper before it got destroyed in their back and forth banter.

“I’m a year older than you. Barely.” Bucky’s response was deadpan, but his eyes sparkled. He offered up a high five. “Congrats, Sam. It’s well deserved. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to win next quarter.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it. So how have things been going with Amy?” Sam started, and then stopped when he saw Bucky’s face at the mention of her name.

“We’re, uh. I guess I’m not seeing her anymore.” Bucky looked down at the ground as he mumbled out his reply. 

“It happens.” Sam’s voice was gentle, and Bucky appreciated that he didn’t force him to look up. “Does she know you’re not seeing her anymore?”

Bucky bit his tongue and winced. “Not in so many words, no.”

Sam was kind enough not to sigh, but he did put on his Dad face, his best 'I’m Disappointed in You' expression, and Bucky decided the ground remained the safest place to stare. Maybe somewhere there was a parallel universe where his counterpart knew how to navigate personal relationships, knew the art of communication the way other people seemed to instinctively know, but this world wasn’t it. 

“I’ll, uh, send her a text tomorrow.” When that didn’t alleviate Sam’s expression, Bucky tried again. “I’ll text tonight? Come on Sam, you know I’m not good with this sort of stuff. Ever since Brock-” he cut himself off before Sam could interject and put his hands up. “I know it doesn’t give me an excuse to hurt others. I swear I’m trying. It’s just hard.”

“Well.” Sam paused, then clearly decided not to press the point. “You’d better hope it’s hard, or you’ll be out of a job. See a doctor if it lasts longer than four hours though.”

Sam turned to leave the meeting room, and Bucky sputtered indignantly. “You did not just turn my personal problems into a dick joke!”

“Pretty sure I did, Barnes! See you later.”

*

Across the room, Steve caught Natasha’s eye. She sauntered over in her skintight catsuit, casually tucking her perfectly styled hair behind an ear. How did she get her hair so perfect at 8 in the morning? Steve was lucky that bedhead was a good look on him.

"Damn, Nat. You look great, as always." 

Natasha nodded. “You look like you got out of bed three minutes ago. Did last night really go on that long?”

“Nah.” Steve smiled as he thought about waking up next to Bucky. “We were both tired and just decided to crash in the room.”

“Who got the bed?” Natasha’s voice was even as she smoothed the cuff of her outfit like she wasn’t about to pounce on his answer and rip it to shreds.

Steve had the sudden instinct to back away, like a trapped animal realizing he had no escape. “We both did?” 

Natasha raised a perfect eyebrow. “No, that’s not really how it works, Rogers.”

“Why? What do you do when you're on a job with someone else?” Steve had a feeling he already knew the answer, but the question just slipped out anyway. He kind of wanted to call a redo on the conversation.

“Shower. Go home?” Natasha laughed. “I mean, I love Clint, for example, but when we’re done, we’re done. We go sleep in our own beds."

“It’s just nice to not have to pack up and leave after finishing a job,” grumbled Steve. His cheeks burned under the scrutiny of Natasha’s contemplative gaze. “So what?”

“Look. I’m not about to judge you for anything.” Natasha glanced around the room. Their coworkers had slowly been filtering out after the meeting ended, and they were almost all alone. “I’m just suggesting that maybe we need to examine the situation. Maybe,” she added with a grin, “you have a crush?”

Though Steve attempted to come up with a way to say no, one look from Natasha cut right through all of his potential excuses. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He crossed his arms over his chest, watching to see if his answer appeased her. 

“It’s fine if you do,” Natasha said, putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing him towards the door. “I just want you to be careful. Barnes isn’t…the most...” She paused, considering her words. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

Steve opened his mouth for a retort and then promptly closed it again as Natasha went on.

“I’m not saying that you guys’ll resent each other because of your job. I’m saying he’s not always the most emotionally available guy.”

They paused at the doorway of the meeting room, and Steve nodded, because what else could he do? “I get it, Nat. Thanks for looking out for me. Now go crush some balls, or whatever it is that you’re about to do.”

Natasha’s smile was incandescent as she waved and went down the hallway to the elevator to begin seeing her appointments. Steve couldn’t help but grin at the image of Natasha providing exactly what her clients wanted. The grin faded into a puzzled frown as he replayed their conversation in his mind, wondering what exactly she meant about Bucky.

  
*

An hour later found Steve sitting on the dark green couch in his client Bruce’s living room. 

Bruce took a deep breath. “I’ve just been talking with my therapist and, well, it gets lonely. Thanks for coming by.” 

He sat next to Steve, just their thighs touching. Steve was fully clothed as they sat, surrounded by piles of electronics and books and magazines, the pages scattered around everywhere in ways that seemed to make sense to Bruce.

“Any time,” Steve assured him. “Want me to hold you?”

“Not yet.” Bruce sighed and shifted on the couch. He had dark hair flecked with grey, wire rimmed glasses, and always wore a sweater, coordinated to the day of the week.

They lapsed into silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Steve just sat, keeping his breathing slow and even. After awhile, Bruce shifted again, closer to Steve.

“It’s just so loud outside. And everyone wants to yell at me. It makes me so…” Bruce trailed off with a sad little shrug. “Angry.”

Steve nodded. “You let me know when you’re ready.”

They sat in silence a while longer before Bruce spoke again. “I was talking with my therapist about us trying to go outside, maybe sit on the covered porch. Maybe next week.” Bruce swallowed and bit his lip. “Maybe the week after that. Tell me about how things are going for you?”

Steve talked a bit about keeping busy with work and his runs through Central Park, keeping his voice low and soothing while Bruce leaned against his shoulder.

“It sounds lovely, Steve.” Bruce paused. “I hear they’re throwing a huge party for you guys next month.”

“Stark spreads news like a wildfire.” Steve laced his fingers through Bruce’s as they sat. “Yes. We’re trying to start a push to get this legalization going past New York. See if we can’t attract some more supporters to the cause. Sometimes it feels like an impossible dream. It’s been five years, you know? If we couldn’t get this to spread any farther then, what’s going to change now?”

Bruce tapped a finger to his chin as he spoke thoughts out loud. “You’ve done a lot for them. What about putting faces to your clients? I don’t mean forcing them to talk about using your services. But, as a horrible example, me.”

“I’m not sure why you’d use the word horrible.” Steve watched Bruce closely, interested in what he had to say. 

“It’s not like I could go to the gala. And even if I could manage to go outside for that long, I doubt I could speak to anyone. But the time you spend with me is well worth it to me.” Bruce ducked his head, the beginning of a blush on his cheeks. “Even though people might be surprised to find out you’re not, uh, doing anything like _ that _ with me.”

“No, but just because we’re not having sex doesn’t mean that this isn’t exactly the heart of what we do.” Without realizing it, Steve was already mounting his imaginary soapbox as he held Bruce. “We provide a useful service, and what that looks like is going to be as different as our clients.”

“Yes. Exactly that. You could have some of your clients give testimonies.” Bruce smiled up at Steve. “Also, you’re very good at speeches.”

Steve laughed, a deep, appreciative sound. “Thanks. I guess I’ve been practicing for years now.”

They sat and cuddled, Steve running his fingers through Bruce’s hair while they talked about nothing important. 

“What if you got stories from people in relationships with sex workers?” Bruce’s question came out of nowhere, but Steve knew to expect the sudden jumps in conversation. “Again, not if they don’t want to, of course. Maybe you know someone?”

Bruce didn’t exactly ask if Steve was dating someone, but it sure felt like it. Steve plastered a smile on his face. He liked the idea in general; it’d be powerful to have people speak on the topic. He didn’t like the part where Bruce’s idea reminded him that his track record with dating was, well, nil. Because he didn’t date. He just threw himself into work. 

Steve was one of the most outspoken advocates for sex workers being able to have romantic and sexual relationships outside of their work. How could he go on stage after five years without a single relationship and argue that sex workers could date just like anyone else?

The silence between them stretched out, and Steve realized he had to say something. “That’s a lovely suggestion. I’ll bring it up in our next meeting.”

“Oh, yeah? You guys have meetings?” Bruce raised his eyebrows, knitting them together in thought.

At least Steve’s laugh was genuine. “Yeah. That’s what happens when you get your profession legalized. Meetings. A ton of meetings.”

Bruce laughed, and Steve smiled. Maybe he was fucking up his own nonexistent dating life, but at least he could make his clients happy. They spent a while longer sitting next to each other before Bruce’s time with Steve was up.

When he got off the couch to leave, Steve couldn’t help but think about Bucky. His thoughts dove right off a cliff; what would it be like to have Bucky as his boyfriend? What if the two of them spoke at the gala together? What if they shared sweet little kisses when they thought no one was looking? 

Fuck. Steve shook his head as he headed home. Maybe Natasha was right. Maybe he did have a crush. It was a damn shame that Bucky didn’t feel the same way.

*

Bucky stared at his phone, willing a text message to compose itself and send itself to a girl he hadn’t seen in three weeks. The screen darkened from inactivity and then turned off. At this point, he told himself, it would be worse to text and remind her that he existed. She’d probably already moved on. Right? 

He sighed. Relationships. They were always fun right until they weren’t. He couldn’t even really remember why he stopped seeing her, except maybe it was the way that every time he took her to bed, he started thinking about Steve.

She didn’t deserve that any more than she deserved him falling off of the face of the earth when it came to replying to her texts. He turned his phone back on and scrolled up to their conversation, confirming his suspicions. It had definitely been two weeks ago, a short “Hang out soon?”

He hadn’t replied.

Bucky knew he should really send back something, anything. Let her know that he moved on and that it wasn’t anything she did wrong. His thumb hovered over the screen, and he swiped the conversation into the trash.

With a sigh, Bucky put his phone down. Almost immediately, it buzzed with a notification.

Bucky glared at his phone as if it had personally offended him, and considered ignoring it entirely. That urge lasted for about thirty seconds. 

It was a text.

From Steve.

_ Hey. Can we talk? _

Bucky dropped his phone like it was on fire. It thudded softly onto his blanket.

Steve usually texted him to confirm their jobs together. He had texted a friendly “happy birthday!” complete with emoji balloons and cake a couple months ago. On occasion, they had been part of a group text to make plans for dinner with Nat and Sam. 

Wanting to talk was a completely different sort of text, one that Bucky was wholly unprepared to deal with. What could Steve need to talk about? It couldn’t be anything bad, Bucky finally decided as he picked up his phone and stared at the words on the screen. 

Unless Steve wanted to stop pairing with him for jobs.

Bucky sucked in a breath as he considered the possibility. It didn’t seem likely, but it was feasible. What else would Steve talk about with him? They had gotten along just fine with Scott. Had he missed a signal from Steve? Shoved Scott’s dick too deep in Steve’s mouth? 

Bucky bit his lower lip and frowned as he replayed the evening over in his mind. He’d done everything just like they always did.

His phone buzzed again.

_ Steve: It’s nothing bad, I promise! ;) I think! _

Bucky wasn’t sure that relieved _ any _ of his worries. It gave rise to about ten new ones. He stared at his phone, unable to type a single word.

_ Steve: It’s not even a big deal. I can talk to you tomorrow @ work?? Honestly might be better in person to avoid a misunderstanding. _

Bucky read those words again and again as he racked his mind trying to consider what sort of conversation Steve needed to have that could both wait and also need to be done in person. It was exhausting, but at least it left him an easy out of having the conversation now. He swiped a reply and hit send.

_ Bucky: ok c u tmrw _

_ Steve: :) _

Whatever Steve wanted to talk about, Bucky knew one thing for sure--he was seriously _ fucked _ when it came to Steve goddamned Rogers.


	2. The Art of Pretense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! It was so lovely to read the comments and I hope that you all continue to enjoy this fic!
> 
> This chapter has a short lil BDSM scene with Peggy. There's a blindfold and some paddling. :)

# 2

Bucky swiveled in his chair, alone in the conference room that Steve had deemed a suitable place for their talk. He sat chewing at his bottom lip until Steve walked in with a wave and a glance around like he didn’t want someone to overhear their conversation, which, well, got Bucky’s already on edge nerves even more riled up.

“Sorry to be all intense,” Steve apologized, which lent absolutely no hint as to what this conversation would be about and had Bucky about to gnaw his lip off.

“Just get it out, please.” Bucky was thankful that his voice did not betray the way his stomach was turning flips. He braced himself to hear that Steve didn’t want to do any more jobs together.

Steve took a deep breath. Bucky mirrored that breath, desperate for Steve to finish gathering his thoughts and just speak. 

"I don’t know who else to ask,” Steve finally said. “I need a favor.”

Bucky blinked. A favor. Ok. Favors were ok. He could do a favor for Steve. Part of his brain was already throwing a fucking party complete with confetti over the fact that Steve didn’t want to stop working with him. The other part of his brain was trying to compute what kind of favor Steve needed that only_ Bucky _ could help him.

Then he realized that Steve was blushing. The pale pink glow of his cheeks set off the color of his eyes, like a sunset on the ocean. 

“A favor,” Bucky made himself repeat, so that he would stop thinking about Steve’s beautiful face. He needed Steve to stop blushing and ask for his favor. The speculation was made much worse by the fact that Steve was still fucking blushing.

“Yeah. Uh. I don’t know a good way to say this, so just—will you be my date to the Legalization Gala?”

Bucky’s heart stopped. He had to force himself to watch Steve’s mouth, to listen to the words that were still coming out of his mouth.

“I just can’t go on the stage and speak about how sex workers have relationships like everyone else when I haven’t dated in years.” Steve grimaced, and barely met Bucky’s eyes. “Oh, god. Ok. So now that I’ve admitted I’m pathetic, will you pretend to be dating me for the gala?”

Bucky’s heart came back online just in time to drop down to his feet. Steve didn’t actually want to _ date _ him. He wanted to _ pretend _? Objectively, Bucky was pretty sure he needed to say no, but Bucky’s mouth seemed to be working faster than his brain.

“You’re not pathetic, Rogers. You keep yourself too busy, is all.” His voice was casual and calm and didn’t betray that he felt like he was being hit with hail the size of golf balls.

“Keeping busy is a good excuse for awhile, but five years?” Steve ran a hand through his hair, messing it up in the best possible way. He broke eye contact with Bucky and stared at the floor.

Steve looked so pitiful and gorgeous that Bucky forgot to be upset. His heart hammered in his chest as he considered asking Steve if they could make things easier and just date, no faking required. 

But his mouth was too fast, again, and what actually came out was, “But, y’know. I’ll do it for you.”

Steve snapped to attention, searching Bucky’s eyes. Bucky didn’t understand how someone’s eyes could be so vivid, so blue. Steve had kind of laid himself bare at Bucky’s feet, and as much as Bucky wanted to tell him off for wanting to _ pretend _, he realized he couldn’t kick Steve while he was down.

“But look,” Bucky added, biting at his lower lip and completely unaware of the way Steve honed in on that movement. “I don’t think it’s going to be as straightforward as you want it to be. For example, you know how rumors go around here. Can you imagine if it got out on social media that you were just pretending?”

Steve frowned. “I didn’t think about that. My plan was that we go to the gala, and I ‘break up’ with you quietly a little while later.”

Bucky shook his head. “We need to be all in. We’ve got to sell it here. At work. Outside of work.” He let out a breath, heady with the realizations of what he was suggesting. “You’re the face of this movement. If word gets out that Steven Grant Rogers can’t have a real relationship because of his job—and you know that’s how the opposition is going to phrase it, even if it’s completely untrue, so don’t give me that look. I’m saying we’ve got to be all in. The entire time.”

Steve nodded like Bucky knew what the fuck he was talking about. Bucky wished he knew what the fuck he was talking about.

“Yeah. Damn.” Steve kept nodding. “You’re absolutely right. This was a stupid idea. I can’t ask you for a month of your time just because I’m feeling insecure.”

Bucky opened his mouth. This time, he was one hundred percent ready to suggest that they just date, _ for real_, for a month and see how it went. Unbidden, the text he didn’t send to Amy last night floated to mind, and he shut his mouth. Not only shouldn’t he date Steve, but Steve didn’t deserve to be stuck with someone like Bucky. 

“This was one of my worst ideas yet,” Steve went on, and Bucky swallowed back the desire to kiss him until he stopped frowning. 

“Hey, no, Steve. It’s cool.” He managed a lopsided grin. “I like you; how hard could it be to pretend that I really like you?"

Steve’s tentative smile was so fucking adorable that Bucky wanted to take a picture and frame it. 

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want,” Steve rushed to add, his blush deepening into a sunset red. 

It was beautiful. Steve was beautiful. Bucky was bend-me-over-and-screw-me-into-next-Monday fucked. 

“Even if you change your mind," Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I’m not going to hold you to anything; I really appreciate you humoring my dumb idea."

“You have plenty of good ideas.” Bucky toyed with the idea of grabbing Steve’s hand. It was something he might have done if they were dating, but they weren’t. He kept his hand at his side. “This is just one of the most interesting ones I’ve heard.”

“My life is a mess,” Steve replied. He rubbed at his temples and offered up a pathetic attempt at a smile.

“At least you’ve got a great job.” Bucky grinned, and put his hands on his hips, posing for Steve. “And now you’ve got the best boyfriend a guy could ask for.”

*

When Bucky stuck out his hips and smiled at Steve, Steve knew he was over his head, out to sea without a life jacket and drowning in Bucky’s stormwall blue eyes. For a fleeting moment, he considered taking back everything about their relationship being “pretend” and asking Bucky out for real.

But what if Bucky said no? Had Bucky ever acted like he wanted to date him? Steve tried to replay their interactions together. A moment too late, he realized he’d been staring lost in thought with his mouth half-open.

“Well I know I’m hot,” Bucky said with a devilish grin. “So what's with the face? Just practicing for your clients tonight?”

Steve checked his watch. “Actually, practicing for like ten minutes from now. I gotta get to the floor.”

“Alright, sweetheart,” Bucky said, pitching his voice lower than normal and leaning in. “Have a good day at work.” 

Steve swallowed, aware of how very close Bucky’s lips were to his, how the tip of his nose touched against Steve’s cheek and how all of the sudden, they were kissing. It lasted only a second, Bucky’s lips soft and warm and somehow so different from when they were kissing in front of a client. 

“How’s that?” Bucky asked, looking up at him with an edge of discomfort in his eyes as he stepped back and glanced down at the floor before tentatively meeting Steve’s gaze again. “Too much? Just enough…?”

Steve wanted to take Bucky into his arms and show him how that beautiful little kiss wasn’t even close to enough. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the heated rush of blood heading straight to his groin. 

“It’s perfect,” he managed to say without sounding strangled. _ You’re perfect, and I don’t deserve this_, he didn't add.

“Did I just see what I thought I saw?” Natasha’s voice cut through the meeting room, tinged in what sounded like glee.

Glancing over, Steve decided “glee” might not be the best word. She had that same expression she’d worn while she was questioning him about sharing the bed with Bucky, as though she was the tiger and he was the prey.

“You did,” Bucky said, coming to Steve’s rescue. Again.

Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand. He laced their fingers together like they did it all the time—they _ did _ do it every time they had a job together—and lifted up their joined hands. “Nat, I’m pleased to introduce you to Steve Rogers. My boyfriend.”

At the word _ boyfriend _, Steve’s knees threatened to wobble. It was one thing for them to discuss his ridiculous idea in private, just the two of them sharing a silly idea. But to present themselves together, and in front of Natasha of all people? Steve let out a breath that he hoped she’d read as nerves from their so-called new relationship.

The smile that spread across Natasha’s lips was genuine. “Well, congratulations. About damn time.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Bucky shot Steve a look, and Steve hoped his ‘I don’t know’ face came across as sincere confusion to Bucky and bashful agreement to Natasha. 

Natasha shrugged. “Just that we could all see you two circling each other. Like I said. It’s about damn time.”

Steve’s next hope was that his blush wasn’t as bad as the heat on his cheeks suggested it was.

“Well, we’re just taking it slow and seeing where it goes,” Bucky said, giving Steve’s hand a little squeeze before letting go, and _ god, _Steve just wanted Bucky to mean those words. 

They were going to have to talk. He was going to have to tell Bucky how he really felt. Steve checked his watch again. 

“Shit, I really do have to go now.” Later. They were going to have to talk later. “See you at our appointment with Peggy tonight! Bye!”

And if he bolted from the room like his rear was on fire? Well, hopefully both Natasha and Bucky just thought he didn’t want to be late. 

After all, Steve did some of his best thinking with his mouth full of dick. It helped that the guy was an occasional regular who didn't want to talk, a compact, muscular guy with tousled dark hair who was there for a quick five-minute lay and tipped when Steve knelt and let him fuck his mouth. In fact, the less Steve said, the better. 

While the corporate suit shoved his dick down Steve's throat, Steve replayed the little squeeze Bucky had given him before letting go of his hand. Bucky hadn’t needed to do that; it wasn’t something Natasha would have noticed. But he did it, and now Steve was reliving that moment from every angle, trying to suss out any meaning behind the motion. Even as the cock in his mouth slid in and out in a relentless, erratic rhythm, its owner drawing ever nearer to orgasm, Steve's thoughts were of Bucky.

Steve hummed around the cock by instinct and was rewarded with a truncated groan as his client jerked once more and came, filling the condom. 

His client seemed pleased by the speed of their encounter, if a bit dismissive of Steve's talent for giving excellent head. Honestly, the client always had an air that edged towards disdain, like as long as _ he _ wasn't giving a blowjob for cash, then it was ok. Some day, Steve was single handedly going to change everyone's attitudes towards sex workers, starting with this guy.

He handed Steve a wad of cash with a grunt. “Just what I needed to face the afternoon grind.”

“Any time.” Steve offered a perfunctory smile. He'd figure out how to address his client's hang ups a different time; for now, his thoughts had already wandered back to Bucky.

*

In another room on the floor, Bucky paced between the plush bed and easily cleaned couch. Working the floor at Stark Tower was a decent way to make some easy money, but his next appointment was ten long minutes away, and he wasn’t sure how many times he could scroll Twitter just to keep his mind off of Steve. 

Right as he slipped his phone into the pocket of his worn jeans, it dinged with a message.

From Brock Rumlow.

_ Long time no talk. Available 2nite? _

At the sight of Brock’s name, Bucky almost threw his phone across the room. He held it at arm’s length as though Brock might crawl out of the screen. How long had it been since he’d seen Brock in person? Objectively, he knew _ why _ he stopped responding to Brock’s texts. Subjectively, he remembered the last few times they’d fucked—fiery, animalistic, and so good.

Brock seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.

_ like actual talk not sex lol promise _

Bucky stared at his phone and a sudden wish bubbled up in his chest, lodging itself like a weight in his heart. He wanted things to be simpler. He wanted to be able to text Brock back that he was in a relationship and didn’t need to see him again. 

There was that ache in his heart again. He just wanted to be wanted.

Bucky knew he ought to talk to Sam to get an idea from someone smart and responsible and outside of the situation as to how he should respond. But his next client was about to show up, and he didn’t feel like thinking about _ Brock _ through the whole appointment. Bucky bit his lip and made a snap decision.

_ ok, see you tonight _

There was a knock on the door, and Bucky pasted on his sexiest smile as he went to open it, ready to spend the next half hour keeping his mind off of Brock.

*

That evening, Bucky stood completely naked next to Steve in one of Stark Escort’s nicest rooms, his nipples peaked from the chill in the room. 

“Well, congratulations, boys!” Peggy said as she snapped a length of fabric in preparation for her monthly session with them.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, and the smile Peggy gave Bucky was sharp and sweet all at once. He bit his lip. Charging extra for certain things like D/s helped keep his numbers up, kept him in competition with Sam. But despite the fact that Peggy looked hot as hell in leather, her curves encased in a supple corset that had her breasts spilling out in all the right ways, the submission just wasn’t Bucky’s style.

Steve, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy it, so it was an easy decision to say yes to clients like Peggy looking for a few naughty boys to discipline. 

“Seriously, Peggy? It’s been half a day and you already know?” Steve said, his ‘ah shucks’ grin in full force. His blush traveled down his cheeks to his throat, spreading in a faint pink at the top of his naked chest.

It was adorable, and Bucky wanted to put his mouth on those collarbones and add a few more colors to Steve's skin. 

Peggy winked, strutting over in her thigh high leather boots and holding up the blindfold for Steve’s inspection. “Good news travels fast.”

Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve’s bare shoulder and pulled him closer. Steve hesitated before leaning in. He was warm against Bucky, soft skin and solid muscle. Somehow his chest fit perfectly against Bucky’s.

“Don’t worry. We’re not going to ignore you," Bucky assured Peggy, the smile pasted on his face over the turmoil that threatened to knit his eyebrows together. Steve had hesitated to touch him.

“I know you wouldn’t dream of it.” Peggy said with a nod to the floor in front of her. “Kneel, boys.”

Bucky sank down to the ground. The floor was unyielding. He stole a sidelong glance at Steve, who knelt in a smooth, practised motion, his perfect thighs flexed and highlighting every glorious muscle of his ass. Steve clasped his hands behind his back and bowed his head a few inches, waiting for Peggy’s next instruction. Bucky did his best to copy Steve’s position, but his body never seemed as agreeable. 

He counted the seconds as they waited. Though he couldn’t see Peggy’s eyes, her gaze was hot on his skin. She stepped forward, her boots coming into his field of view when she stopped in front of Steve. The dark end of the fabric blindfold trailed from her hands as she put a finger under Steve's chin. Bucky appreciated the view as best he could without outright looking. 

Steve's profile cut a fantastic image, his chin somehow proud and submissive at the same time, the set of his lips yielding. He closed his eyes the moment before Peggy put the fabric to his face, and Bucky nearly gasped at the way his eyelashes left delicate shadows on his cheeks. 

Peggy tied off the end of the blindfold and turned neatly, her heels clicking against the floor as she headed to her table. He knew exactly what was set up on it; he'd been the one to lay it out as described in their agreement before she got there.

Fuck, the floor was annoying under his knees today. Steve waited next to him, perfect in his stillness. He didn't shift from leg to leg, just knelt as though he was weightless. Meanwhile, Bucky was sure his knees were leaving impressions in the wood.

Peggy was walking back to them; her heels marked every step, vibrating the ground just enough to irritate Bucky before she even got back to them with a paddle. He looked up out of instinct and met her eyes. Peggy’s smile brightened and she put a finger to her lips, motioning for him to look down again.

She’d said before that she liked having the two of them together—Steve blindfolded so his reactions were more intense, and Bucky not, so she could enjoy the apprehension in his eyes.

“Steve, love,” Peggy said after another long minute. 

Steve startled minutely, a ripple of motion down his back. With Bucky’s eyes cast toward the ground, he saw Peggy put her hand on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve shuddered again, another slight burst of energy expelled in his gorgeous muscles.

“Bucky tells me that you’ve lied to me, Steve,” Peggy continued, her voice stern as stone with a lilt that promised leniency if he came clean and guaranteed something worse if he didn’t. “Go ahead and tell me the truth now. What are you hiding?”

Peggy’s words hit Bucky harder than her paddle would ever manage. He opened his mouth, ready to swallow his pride and tell her that they weren’t really dating, that they were really lying to everyone.

Damn. Bucky shifted again. She was good.

“I’m sorry, Peggy,” Steve said. His voice was like silk, and Bucky had no clue how Steve did it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Silence covered the room with Peggy radiating disapproval in the middle. She took a single step forward. Firmly in Steve’s personal space, Peggy tapped his shoulder again. Steve flinched, and Bucky wondered if it was acting or a genuine response.

“Interesting,” Peggy noted. “Are you trying to suggest that Bucky’s been less than truthful to me?”

Steve was silent and for a moment, Bucky wondered if, maybe, Steve felt the same urge to confess.

“No, Peggy,” Steve murmured. “I’m sorry.”

"I'd say it pains me to do this, but it really doesn't." Peggy tapped the paddle against her open palm twice. "Five taps for lying, five for not coming clean right away. Put your hands on the ground and count for me please."

All of Steve came into Bucky's view when he put his hands on the ground and waited. Peggy walked in a slow circle, stopping behind him. She put one hand on Steve's hips, whether to steady him from the impact or to brace herself to deliver a stronger one, Bucky couldn't say. 

While Bucky didn’t like being hit himself, he did like the way Steve gasped when the paddle hit his skin, the way he called out his number like a penance. Peggy wasn't hitting hard enough to bruise, but Steve's ass went from a very pretty pink to a deep red by the first five. Bucky really needed to thank Peggy for accommodating his request to not be blindfolded.

“Six,” grunted Steve, his silken voice unraveling when Peggy smacked him twice in quick succession, the paddle whispering through the air. “Seven! Eight.”

The crack of the paddle on Steve’s skin was like thunder, and Bucky’s body lit up like lightning listening to Steve’s wrecked voice somehow announcing, “Nine.”

Peggy paused then, her arm above Steve’s back as the silence spread back out in the room, punctuated by Steve’s heavy breathing. The softest sheen of sweat shone on his back and his muscles twitched every time Peggy so much as shifted her hips.

Bucky saw then what Peggy liked best about working with Steve; the way Steve gave in to the uncertainty and unknown and surrendered his body to her will. His back smoothed out, a radiant calm settling into his limbs. He was so goddamned peaceful and beautiful that Bucky had to look away lest he reach out and touch him. 

The paddle swished through the air, a final smack against Steve’s skin, and Steve choked back a cry. He gasped out a “Ten” with a shudder. 

Bucky didn’t care if it was all an act; he wanted nothing more than to gather Steve up in his arms and shower him in praise. As far as he was concerned, Steve was the most beautiful mistake Bucky had ever made. He let out his breath in a shaky exhale.

Later, when they had finished and done a short debrief over tea, Peggy regarded them with bright, knowing eyes. "You two have always been lovely to play with together. Now I think it's even better. I can't wait until the next time."

Bucky smiled and rubbed his now-clothed knees. 

“You just let us know when,” Steve promised. “Darcy knows you’ve got priority scheduling when you request us.”

When Peggy left, a new silence spilled into the room, thick and heavy and hanging over everything. Bucky almost wanted to laugh, but he wasn’t sure it wouldn’t come out as hysterical. He chanced a glance at Steve, who _ did _ burst out laughing.   
  
“Can you believe it?” Steve asked, still smiling. “We pretend to date and of fucking course she decides to go with a lying scenario. I swear, she must have a sixth sense for this.”

Bucky hissed out a sigh of relief, laughter bubbling up in his chest. “Oh my god, Steve, I thought I was going to confess at her feet and beg for her mercy.”

When their laughter finally died down, Steve got up and began to gather the toys they’d used to clean and sanitize. Stark Escorts had interns to clean the rooms and toys, but Steve always said he wanted to make sure they were done to his exacting standards.

“After we’re done here,” Steve asked, holding a handful of dildos, “Would you like to maybe go, uh, get dinner?”

“Oh that sounds good,” Bucky began, and then remembered that he’d said yes to meeting up with Brock. He paused and swallowed, his gaze glued on the ground, anywhere other than Steve’s gorgeous blue eyes. “Wait. I forgot I’ve got something to do tonight. Can we plan for a different day?”

“Sure,” Steve said right away, so quickly that Bucky almost thought he was actually disappointed. “We can have our pretend date a different night.”

“Ok. I think we’ve both got Wednesday evening off, right?” Bucky offered, wanting to quell the guilt that had wrapped itself heavily around his chest.

“Wednesday it is!” Steve said, with a light smile. “Be prepared for the best fake date you’ve ever been on.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Thanks in advance for setting standards I didn’t know I’d ever have in my life, Steve. I’ll see you then.”

He rushed to leave the room, because he knew if he stayed a moment longer, he’d cancel on Brock, and tell Steve he wanted to actually date him. Steve would say no, and Bucky would have ruined everything.


	3. The Art of Pining

# 3

“I gotta admit, I was surprised to get an answer from you, Bucky.” Brock took a sip of his beer and met Bucky’s eyes with one of his typical self-satisfied grins. “You kind of disappeared on me for awhile there.”

The buzz of the restaurant enveloped them, loud but not chaotic. Almost soothing. Bucky took a long drink from his IPA. “Well, work’s been busy.” 

“Ah. Yeah. Work.” Brock fiddled with his fork before taking a bite. “Gets us all.”

With a nod, Bucky fell silent as he studied Brock from across the table. The dim light of the pub didn’t quite highlight the hazel in Brock’s eyes, but he was still just as gorgeous as Bucky remembered. He was dressed exactly like his profile picture back when he’d drawn Bucky in: a knowing smirk, and just a hint of collarbone under a v-neck t-shirt.

Bucky couldn't deny that Brock was hot as hell. He’d suckered Bucky in like a moth to a flame, and every time they’d had an arguement, it had ended in some of the hottest sex of his life. Bucky had thought at the time that they argued a lot, but maybe it wasn’t as bad as he remembered. 

“I was just thinking that I missed you, Bucky,” Brock finally said. He put down his fork and knife and met Bucky’s eyes again. “I have to be honest. I miss _ us_.”

Staring at his plate, Bucky considered the implication of Brock’s insinuation. There was no denying that Brock was good in bed, but he could be so volatile. As much as Bucky wanted to date _ Steve_, Brock was the one coming out and talking about an actual relationship.

Bucky hesitated to reply. He was completely positive that ‘it’s too late; I’m in a fake relationship with Steve now’ was the wrong answer, but he also didn’t know that he wanted Brock. “I, uh, I still think about you, yeah.” That wasn’t quite a lie, so Bucky kept going. “But it feels—the timing is odd, Brock. I don’t know if I’m ready for something like that again.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Bucky wished he’d taken up Steve on his dinner offer. He knew what was coming next: Brock was gonna have a fit and remind Bucky exactly why he’d stopped answering his calls in the first place.

But Brock surprised him and just smiled, a genuine, almost tentative wisp of understanding, and looked down at the table for a moment. “Hey, I understand. I know I said some pretty hurtful things to you, and if you’re not ready, I can give you more time.” 

Bucky blinked, carefully arranging his frown into casual neutrality. “That’s not how I expected you to react,” he said, almost positive that being reminded about his flaws would be Brock's breaking point.

Brock just laughed. “I hope that’s a good thing.” He shrugged. “I’ve been working on myself, Bucky. I’m hoping you might give us another try. It doesn’t have to go from zero to sixty. We can take it slow, start in first gear.”

Bucky fumbled a french fry and it fell on his lap. “I really don’t know.” 

He looked up to see Brock waiting with a patient smile. It seemed so sincere. Half a year ago, Bucky giving an answer that wasn’t in precise agreement would have had Brock bouncing on the balls of his feet, ready to pick apart the statement and bring him down with a cascading fall of biting words. For too long, Bucky had managed to only remember the sex afterward.

This time, though, Brock nodded like he understood. “Take some time to think. I miss you.”

Some small part of Bucky yearned for _ what could have been _ as he sat there, eating his food and considering Brock’s words. A larger, more cautious part reminded him why he’d stopped seeing Brock. And the biggest part of his heart ached, because he realized that he wanted it to be Steve sitting across the table, Steve asking him to get together.

*

Wednesday evening, Steve shoved his hands in his pockets where they couldn’t give away his nerves and grinned at Bucky. 

“So what do you think? Okay for our first date?” He shoved his hands deeper in his pockets and added, “Please let me know if this is too much. I really appreciate you even considering it and—”

“Steve,” Bucky said. His hands were on his hips; apparently he didn’t need to hide his nerves like Steve did. He reached out, wrapping his hand lightly around Steve’s forearm. “It’s fine. This is fine. I would have been happy to hang out with you as a friend, you know what I mean?”

Steve latched onto that. “Yes! It’s the same for me, Bucky. I hope you don’t think for a moment that I don’t want to be here with you. Even if it was just as friends.”

Bucky’s smile seemed to falter for a moment, but then he laughed. Steve scolding himself; he had to stop ascribing moods to every shadow that crossed Bucky’s face before he second guessed himself into oblivion.

“The fuck is a paint and pour anyhow?” Bucky asked as they walked through the door and got checked in before finding their spots by two side-by-side easels. Their names were written on top of paper plates that covered a second plate full of paint.

“You paint, and you can drink while you do it.” Steve didn’t go into how he thought it was a perfect fake date because they didn’t have to worry about _ do we hold hands? _

And if Steve was already sipping at his first cup of wine to help ease his nerves? That was between him and the plastic cup.

“I’ve said before, I am not an artist,” Bucky protested, but he, too, picked up his cup and took a sip, glancing up to the front of the room where the teacher was situated on stage with her blank canvas. 

“They break it down,” Steve promised as more people filtered into the room, sitting down at their easels and smiling and introducing each other.

The teacher chose that moment to ask everyone to quiet down before setting into her spiel. Steve painted, vaguely following her directions and adding embellishments wherever it felt right. He kept an eye on Bucky the entire time, making sure he wasn’t falling behind.

Steve smiled. Bucky had tucked his hair behind his ears and was studying his canvas. He looked up at the teacher’s example again before dipping his brush in the blue and mixing it with the white like she suggested. Steve realized Bucky was chewing on his tongue, and it was so adorable he had to look away. 

In just a moment, he was looking back. He couldn’t keep his eyes away. Bucky turned over towards Steve and his jaw dropped. “Holy shit, Steve, you’re like a real artist.”

Steve regarded the piece in front of him. They were doing some sort of beachscape, and Steve had lost himself in adding detail to the foam of the waves. “Nah,” he said, positive a blush was settling on his cheeks. “I just sort of did my own thing while she was demonstrating the technique.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I should have known you’d be an expert painter too. Is there anything you do that you’re not perfect at?”

Steve’s cheeks heated even more. There was all sorts of meaning packed into Bucky’s compliment. “I, uh, wasn’t that great at golf. There’s that.”

Bucky laughed and turned back to his canvas. “Okay, okay. Let me see if I can get this up to speed.”

When the teacher announced that it was time to take a short break, Steve couldn’t help the question that darted out of his mouth, one he’d been thinking about ever since their conversation mid-paint. “I wonder why we never got together out of work before. You know. Just to hang out.”

Bucky swung his feet over his stool as he regarded Steve. There were shadows dancing across his face again, and Steve held back a grimace. He hadn’t meant to upset Bucky.

“I dunno, Rogers. I guess we’ve been busy with our own lives.”

“Guess so.” Steve attempted a soft smile, hoping to drive those shadows from Bucky’s face. “I’m really glad we’re doing this, though.” He glanced around, as though the people they’d met at the class were spies just waiting to report back to Natasha on the actual status of their relationship. “Even given the circumstances, I really don’t want you to think I’m just here because I have to be.” There had to be a better way to word that, but Steve clamped his lips together and forced himself to wait for Bucky’s reply.

Bucky’s frown flickered and disappeared as he shook his head. “You’re something else.” He hesitated for a moment before leaning in and surprising Steve with a quick kiss on the cheek. He winced. “Oh! Was that ok?”

Steve smiled, grabbing Bucky’s hand and holding it tight. “You’re doing great, Bucky. I’m enjoying myself, and I hope you’re having a good time too.”

He didn’t mention the part where his cheek still tingled in the shape of Bucky’s lips.

“I’ll be doing a lot better,” Bucky began, and Steve’s smile faded, only to perk up again when Bucky finished, “when I figure out how to get the trees in this picture to look like trees, instead of abstract overripe pineapples.”

Steve laughed. “Ok, ok, look. Try this—” He grabbed Bucky’s brush and did his best to show him how he manipulated the stroke before turning the brush loose for Bucky to try for himself.

“Oh! There’s a fucking difference,” Bucky mused as he painted. “You’re pretty amazing.”

Losing count of how many times he’d tried to stop from blushing, Steve just nodded. “Thanks. You’re doing great.” 

His skin continued to dance where Bucky had kissed him, a silent celebration even as he reminded himself it was just for show.

Bucky’s phone must have buzzed, because he patted his pocket and grabbed it, glancing at the screen with a frown before putting it back in his pocket. Steve thought about asking him if everything was ok, but Bucky picked up his brush and got back to work, so Steve did the same.

*

Another text from Brock. Bucky turned his notifications to silent, and when he looked back up at his painting, Steve had cocked his head toward him, looking like he was going to ask a question. 

The evening had been way too nice to ruin with an attempt to explain whatever Brock was. So Bucky grabbed his paintbrush and tried to copy what Steve had shown him. Thankfully, Steve didn’t press and also went back to his painting.

Another five minutes of listening to the instructor lead them through the next step, and Bucky had almost forgotten about Brock. He paused to stare at Steve’s canvas again; he knew from experience that Steve had insane amounts of talent in those hands—he just hadn’t thought about that talent crossing into different mediums, like art. 

Then again, giving a good handjob was definitely an art. 

“Looks great, Bucky!” Steve said as they waited for their last bit of paint to dry. 

Bucky refrained from looking at his cell phone to see if Brock had left other messages. He wanted to focus on Steve. Steve, who was smiling at him like he was the sun, but he had to be imagining that. Steve, whose damn face was so perfect with that smile on it, looking at Bucky like he couldn’t think of a thing he’d rather be doing for the evening.

But that singular focus was just another way Steve excelled at his job. Clearly, Bucky realized he was projecting his own feelings on Steve. Steve was probably enjoying a nice time out with a friend he was pretending to date and nothing more.

“Your painting looks like you could hang it in a gallery tomorrow and some guy in a suit that costs more than I make in a week would stare at it in overwrought contemplation for five minutes before declaring it perfect for his downstairs office and buying it for half a million dollars.”

Steve blinked. “That’s a very oddly specific scenario.”

Bucky downed the last bit of wine in his cup and grinned. “Just accept the compliment and say thank you.”

Steve’s smile shifted into something even sweeter as he ducked his head ever so slightly as he mumbled a thanks. “I hope you enjoyed it too.”

“I got to drink and paint and spend time with my best man,” Bucky said, the last words rolling off his tongue so easily that he almost wanted to shove them back in his mouth, lest Steve realize how serious he was about him.

If anything, Steve’s smile got bigger and that made Bucky want to kiss him even more. He had to physically turn away from Steve, pretending to contemplate his own painting to quash the urge.

“Yeah, suit guy would see my painting," Bucky said, "and comment to his gorgeous date that it’s nice, but it lacks the passion that he needs in his life.” 

Steve laughed, and fuck if that didn’t make Bucky want to kiss him too. He couldn’t go on like this, wanting Steve so damn much that his heart ached in his chest.

But he couldn’t let Steve down. He could deal with this for a few more weeks. They didn’t have to go out again to sell the ruse and who would blame them if they said that they liked to spend quiet evenings together after the constant physical contact of their jobs?

“Suit guy doesn’t know what he’s missing out on." Steve's words were soft, thoughtful. “He’d be lucky to find someone with half as much passion as you’ve got.”

“Steve,” Bucky groaned. Fuck. He couldn’t go on like this forever, listening to Steve act like they were actually dating. “You don’t have to flirt if you don’t want to.”

Steve blinked, his smile quirking down into a thoughtful frown as cheerful pop music played in the background. “Oh! I’m sorry if that went too far. I was just aiming for friendly banter. I don't want the evening to be...boring."

Bucky managed to not groan again, but _ fuck _, that definitely meant he was misreading the situation and projecting his feelings onto Steve. “No, no. You didn’t force me to do anything, Steve. I had—am having—a good night, ok?”

He forced himself to meet Steve’s eyes, and Steve was smiling again, so there was at least that. He couldn’t keep the eye contact though, and as he glanced around the room, he noticed that most of the others had already left with their paintings. In fact, his and Steve’s canvases were quite dry now. The teacher didn’t seem bothered by them being there; she was just cleaning brushes in the sink and humming along to the music.

Steve must have followed his glance. “Guess we’ve outstayed our welcome. You ready to call this a successful first date?”

Bucky nodded, not speaking because he didn’t trust his voice. He grabbed his painting and followed Steve outside into the fresh air. Outside, the freshly fallen night was dark and cloudy, and people passed them by without a second look. Bucky shook off the weirdness he’d felt inside and took a deep breath. 

“Well, I’m old-fashioned,” he joked. “You’re gonna have to wait until the third date to get me in bed.”

Steve barked out a laugh, grabbing at his chest.

So, yeah. He was still kind of killing Bucky. 

“Alright, look, it was a great evening, but I’m gonna take my painting and go, alright?” Bucky hoped his smile was nonchalant and friendly. “See you tomorrow.” He paused. “Actually, not tomorrow. I’ve got an all day event I’m booked for.”

“Sounds like you’re gunning for employee of the quarter already,” Steve said as he looked at their paintings one more time. “Thanks again, Bucky. Text me if you need anything, ok?”

That part was different from their usual goodbyes, but Bucky just tucked that thought in the back of his mind and waved as he headed home. 

He made the mistake of checking his phone. There were four missed messages from Brock, a “how’s ur evening?” and “free to talk?” and two asking him to call him tomorrow. Bucky sighed into the cool evening as though it was responsible for this. Whatever Brock wanted, it could wait. 

*

The next day passed uneventfully. Bucky, expert that he was in nursing his beverages while on the clock, was only two drinks in by the time the event ended and his corporate “date” tipped him for a day of perfectly pretending to be her rebound fling. Sharon had been sweet and flirtatious all afternoon, a pleasure to work for, really. He wished her the best before he left and meant it, hoping she’d get the promotion she’d been angling for at the event.

Now he was glaring at his phone as though it should apologize for the handful of messages Brock had sent him during the day; little notes like “_ thinking of u _” and a meme of several cats in a pile. 

He sighed. The last time they’d tried something, Brock had definitely had anger issues with Bucky’s line of work. Bucky wondered if things might be different this time, but cut himself off from that train of thought quickly. He didn't want another chance with Brock. He wanted a chance with Steve. 

His phone lit up again, and when he saw it was a message from Steve, his heart sped up. 

_ Sam and Nat invited us to dinner, you up to it? _

Bucky had already tapped out a “_ yes _” and hit send before he stopped to consider it. Was he really up for it? A second thought followed: he hated to be so suspicious, but what if Natasha was looking for an excuse to sniff out their ruse? She always seemed to find the best gossip, and while she wouldn't be malicious about it, if she knew they were faking, Bucky wasn't sure he could survive.

Steve sent him the details, and Bucky saw he had enough time for a quick shower. As he scrubbed his hair, he decided he’d at least call Brock while he walked and let him know—well, he wasn’t sure what he’d let him know. There technically wasn’t anything to let him know except that he wasn’t interested.

Shampoo swirled around the drain as Bucky considered the fact that of the two, at least Brock had admitted to wanting to be with him out loud. The heat of the water seemed overwhelming suddenly, and Bucky shut it off as soon as his hair ran clean.

Steve was gorgeous. Smart. Amazing. But he’d asked Bucky to pretend to date him. He wasn’t actually interested. 

Bucky flung the towel across his bedroom, almost knocking the hamper over. He wanted someone to talk to, so he could figure out what he needed to do. He couldn’t talk to Steve about it. He certainly couldn’t mention it to Brock.

As Bucky locked the front door behind him, he understood the reality of his situation. If he wanted to keep up the ruse with Steve for the month, he couldn't talk to anyone about his doubts. 

It wasn't that much longer to bottle up his feelings, right?

He walked down the sidewalk, the rattle of cars on the roads and the scrape of shoes as people shuffled past crowding in on his thoughts. Somewhere, a dog barked. Bucky pulled out his phone and called Brock as he made his way down the block.

“Hey, good to hear from you.” Brock’s voice over the phone was warm, inviting. It pulled him away from the busy noises and grounded him. 

“Yeah. It was a long day of work,” Bucky said, interested to hear Brock’s response. "It wasn't bad, just sort of tedious."

There was the smallest hesitation before Brock replied, “Work can be like that.” 

Maybe Bucky imagined the hesitation.

“Yeah,” Bucky said again. “I’m heading to dinner with some friends. Just thought I’d, uh. See how you were doing I guess.”

“Sure, yeah.” Brock gave him a few details from his day, and Bucky could almost imagine coming home to him, could almost imagine being okay with it.

It wasn’t entirely _ right _, but something was better than nothing.

To his surprise, he got to the restaurant almost fifteen minutes early. “Hey,” he lied to Brock, “Everyone’s here, so I’ve gotta go.”

Bucky strode over to the bar. The two drinks from earlier were long gone from his system, and his head hurt from trying to wrap his mind around the Brock situation. The Steve situation. The fact that Natasha and Sam were about to be having dinner with them, like some sort of goddamned double date.

He sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and ordered a shot. Slouching on the stool, he watched the door for the others as he downed it, the burn a welcome distraction from all of his thoughts. 

The distraction didn’t last, of course. He knew better than to go down that path for the evening. He still ordered a second and third one and tossed them back, shaking his head. Fuck, maybe now he could treat his time with Steve like what it was—nothing. He sighed and ordered another pair of shots.

Natasha came through the door first, gorgeous as always in a black dress and with Sam’s hand resting lightly on her back. And then Steve; Steve, the absolute fucking bastard who’d decided to wear his best velvet blazer, the one that highlighted just everything. His shoulders. His arms. The taper of his waist.

Bucky suddenly wished he’d picked a fancier shirt. He kicked that thought to the curb and waved over to Natasha. 

“Our table’ll be ready in about—” he checked his watch, “—five more minutes. You’re looking lovely tonight.”

“Thanks." Natasha glanced at the line up of shot glasses on the bar. “You’re looking like you’re drinking to forget something. Did your event not go well?”

Bucky shook his head, even as he noticed Steve furrowing his brow in potential concern. Best to head that off at the pass. "It went great.” He even managed a broad smile, like the room wasn't spinning just a bit. “Got a real good tip. Coming after you for next quarter, Wilson.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but his smile was friendly. "I bet they were just impressed by your stamina, old man."

Steve sat tentatively on the bar stool next to Bucky, and Bucky realized he’d already fucked up the whole “dating” thing by not focusing on Steve first. Bucky leaned in closer, wobbling for a moment and catching himself before he pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek. Steve reached up almost automatically and touched his cheek, and Bucky had a moment to wonder if he’d gone too far—they really needed to discuss what exactly the limits were for this arrangement—and then Steve was kissing him.

Steve’s breath was so warm on Bucky’s lips, his nose bumped up against Bucky’s and at some point, he put an arm around Bucky’s shoulder, a comfortable weight inviting Bucky to lean in closer.

“Everything ok?” Steve asked so softly that Bucky was sure he’d imagined it. Louder, Steve added, “I missed you today.”

“You know I’m never gonna go far from you, babe,” Bucky found himself responding. His words weren't even slurred at all. God, it was just so _ easy _ with Steve. That’s what made it so dangerous. 

Satisfied with his performance, Bucky grinned over towards Natasha and Sam. Hopefully, he'd convinced everyone that Steve and him were dating and now they could go home. Sam and Natasha were getting up to follow the hostess.

Oh, right. Dinner. Bucky stood up from the barstool nice and easy, his legs threatening to do their best jello impression if he moved too fast. Natasha had an all too knowing grin on her face. Did she know how drunk he was? Or did she know how fake their relationship was? Bucky frowned at the way the sleek tiles tried to trip him as he followed Steve to their table. 

Steve put a warm hand on the small of his back to steady him and Bucky grinned again. _ Take that, Nat. Would Steve help me if we weren't dating? _

He wasn't sure if he actually said it or just thought it really loud, but Natasha didn't respond, so he was pretty sure he was safe.

Slipping into the booth next to Steve, Bucky couldn't help but run his fingers on the smooth wood of the table. That's what he told himself anyhow as he gripped the surface for support. He managed to sit down despite the gentle sway of the restaurant.

It didn't help that everything in the restaurant was so dark. Not Steve, though. Steve's hair shone under the trendy single Edison bulb light fixtures like a halo. His velvet blazer was a soft green contrast against the dark wood of the booth.

Steve was beautiful, and it was a shame Bucky couldn't tell him that. He frowned down at his menu. Or maybe he could tell him that! They were fake dating which meant he could give real compliments and no one would suspect a thing.

"You're so beautiful, Steve." The words blurred together a touch, but it'd be fine as soon as he got some food in his stomach.

Natasha and Sam exchanged a look and Bucky frowned harder. Compliments were something couples did, damn it! Why did that make them suspicious?

"Thank you Bucky," Steve said with a little, almost sad, smile. 

Great. Bucky ran a hand through his hair as he stared back at the menu. Even Steve thought his attempts at this relationship weren't working out. He ordered another drink when the waiter came by.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Bucky slammed down half the water in his glass at the table. He put the cup down to the sound of Natasha teasing Steve. 

"So, tell us,” she said, “How's your speech coming along?" 

Steve groaned. "I've written better speeches on the back of a napkin. I can’t hold back this time; it’s been five years, and we need to get more people on board with legalization."

Bucky couldn't help but smile at Steve's conviction. Steve would probably bury himself in the ocean if he thought it would improve enough lives. Or maybe Bucky could come up with something a little less morbid. Maybe Bucky could just convince him to do a polar plunge.

"How do you feel about ice water?" is what came out of his mouth. 

Sam, Nat, and Steve turned to Bucky with odd expressions.

"You know? Like to get support?" Bucky tried to explain. It made perfect sense to him; were Natasha and Sam really that concerned with figuring out if Steve and him were actually dating that they couldn't follow his line of thinking?

"I think you're hilarious when you're drunk," Sam laughed. "I want whatever you had."

Bucky nodded, a little confused why no one understood the gravity of the situation. "But we have to stop Steve from trying to sacrifice himself in the ocean." 

"Why am I going to—well, it doesn't matter? That’s not happening Buck." Steve's sweet little smile melted Bucky's heart. 

"Good, cause I love you so damned much, babe," Bucky said and then clapped a hand over his traitor mouth. 

The noise of the crowded restaurant didn't pause, but Bucky was pretty sure his heart stopped. Possibly even his breathing. At least, he was sure he didn't breathe during the eternity it took to turn towards Steve. 

A beautiful flush blanketed Steve's face. Natasha was exchanging another look with Sam. Bucky considered diving under the table. It was dark enough that no one would see him, right? Then he could take his foot out of his mouth until he sobered up.

"That escalated quickly," Natasha said with a smirk.

Bucky groaned. He needed to just come clean. Natasha could keep a secret! So could Sam, probably. Especially since it didn't really affect his chances of making employee of the quarter again. He tried to transmit all of this information with a meaningful glance at Steve.

Steve was still flushed from ear to neck, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck. "Well, gosh, yeah, me too," he said, like he was being strangled. 

"Oh my god," Sam said slowly, and Bucky got ready to spill every detail. "You guys just shared your first 'I love yous' right now?"

Bucky blinked, positive it was the longest blink of his entire life. He just had to follow Steve's lead. Steve hadn't done any shots. Steve knew how to handle this.

Steve was sitting frozen like a goddamned beautiful statute, staring at Bucky. Bucky's heart started again, beating at racehorse speed. Steve was clearly not helping so Bucky had to rely on his instinct to carry them through.

They were fucked.

"It's been, what, a week since you started seeing each other?" Natasha tapped a perfectly manicured nail against her water glass. 

Bucky panicked. "I knew I liked him a lot longer than that!" 

Somehow, Steve seemed to freeze up even more at that addition. "You...did?"

Trying again to project his thoughts into Steve's brain through another meaningful glance, Bucky nodded slowly. "Of course I did. Why else would I have been so excited when you finally asked me out?"

"I thought you said Bucky asked you out first," Natasha offered, making casual eye contact with both of them and not backing down.

_ Fucking shit _, Bucky thought as alarm bells rang in his clouded, wobbling brain. He drank another long gulp of water, but it didn't clear his mind fast enough. 

"It was like a team effort," Steve said, and Bucky stared.

He wondered if Steve was drunk too and just hiding it a hell of a lot better. 

This was going down as the most disastrous date they'd had yet and their waiter still hadn't come to the rescue. Bucky liked it a lot better when they painted and drank and hung out without all of this goddamn pressure.

"You two are hilarious," Sam declared. "Some couples have adorable meet cutes or whatever and you guys apparently had some sort of disaster conversation that ended in a date. Makes sense now that I think about it, honestly."

“That seems harsh,” Steve muttered into his water glass. 

The waiter still hadn’t given them a reprieve, and Bucky’s brain shifted gears into a ‘fuck it’ mindset. “He’s not wrong, though, right babe?” Bucky laughed, and maybe it was a little louder than he intended, but honestly? It felt great to tell the truth, even if it was only half of it. “We legit had a disaster conversation and it ended in a date.”

Steve hesitated, but then he nodded. “Yeah, we did. Kinda figures, doesn’t it?”

Bucky settled back on the bench, pleased with himself. Nat almost seemed convinced, and Sam, for sure, was on board. Motherfucking crisis averted, thanks to his excellent improvisation. 

"Uh, Bucky? Why are you pointing to yourself?" Natasha barely kept her smile to herself, but Sam was full on laughing. 

Even Steve had a curious crinkle at the corner of his eyes and Bucky, had he been more sober, might have considered trying to sink into the bench and disappear. Instead, he flashed a winning smile and–

The waiter finally arrived.

It was probably for the best.

Bucky _ hmm'd _ to himself as he decided on a chicken breast for dinner and ordered without slurring any words. Perfect. Clearly not as drunk as he had feared. He listened to Sam and Nat and Steve have some sort of conversation about fee rates and realized at least ten seconds too late that Sam had asked him a question.

"Too busy staring at your boyfriend?" Sam joked. "Better be careful or you guys'll lose all your tips when you pay more attention to each other than your clients."

"We're professionals, thanks," Bucky said in what he hoped was a very professional tone. "It won't affect our work."

"Are you sure?" Natasha teased with a knowing grin. "Or are you going to...slip up when you have a drink?"

Bucky wavered in his seat and considered Nat's words. She was grinning like a cat that just caught a canary. Was Bucky the dead bird in that metaphor? He tried to drink more of his water, but it was already gone. Steve offered him his cup, but he waved it aside, trying to muddle through the fuzzy thoughts clamoring around. Did Natasha still suspect they were lying?

He'd flirted with Steve in front of her, right? He'd said he loved Steve—which, hopefully Steve didn't know that _ wasn't _ a lie—and he'd kissed him too. What was left to convince her? His thoughts rolled in like a bad radio signal, almost connecting into something coherent. 

Nat was still looking at him like she expected an answer. 

"I would never get drunk on the job," Bucky said, buying time. There had to be some way to show then that he was one hundred percent on board with dating Steve. God, too bad his time with Brock was such a shitty example of a relationship. Getting mad at Steve for being an escort wouldn't prove anything except that Brock was a shitty human. 

"You ok, Buck?" Steve's voice cut through Bucky's jumble of thoughts, and Bucky smiled as he looked over at Steve again.

"Yeah. You look like an angel with the light on your hair like that," Bucky said, forgetting for the moment that he needed to think of some way to convince Natasha that they were really dating and just saying the first thing that popped up in his mind.

Steve flushed so prettily, a delicate red blooming from his ears down to where it disappeared under his shirt collar. "Gosh," he said, his lips twitching like he was going to tear up. 

Sam slapped his thigh and laughed. "You've got our boy saying 'gosh' like he's gone on you to the moon and back. I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't heard it with my own two ears."

"This has been the most interesting evening indeed," Natasha said. Her eyebrows quirked up, like she was holding back laughter.

Bucky groaned. How the hell else was he supposed to convince Natasha they were legit? Hadn't he done everything he could do? But maybe he hadn’t. Okay, Bucky was a rational, reasonable human being. He knew how to convince Natasha. In fact, he knew how to convince the world that they were for-realsies together.

"If Steve and I weren't really dating, then would I blow him here at the restaurant?" Bucky said, with a satisfied grin. He crossed his arms over his chest in triumph.

Sam blinked at him, Steve made a sort of gurgling noise, and Natasha started to laugh. There was only one thing to do. Bucky put his hands on the table, ready to slide down under the table, when Steve kicked his shin, hard.

"How drunk are you?" Natasha laughed, wiping at her eyes. "I'm crying. You've made me cry actual tears."

Bucky frowned. "You're not trying to see if Steve and I are just pretending to date?"

Steve made another gurgling noise beside him.

"No?" Natasha tilted her head, considering the two of them. "I don't remember you being this paranoid when you drink! I suspect you're going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow."

The waiter returned then with their food, too late to have saved him from saying something stupid, and Bucky all of a sudden realized he didn't want to look at Steve. Steve was probably upset with him for being an idiot. For getting drunk and almost blowing their cover. For actually being in love with him.

Steve apparently found his voice again. "Goddamn it, Nat. I could have gotten a high quality bj while we waited for our food and you ruined it."

That had Sam laughing again and Natasha shaking her head. Bucky sagged with relief as he stared at his chicken breast and vegetables. Steve made a joke. Steve didn't hate him. 

The waiter had refilled his cup. Bucky slammed down the water. Things were looking up.

And then his phone buzzed, with a message from Brock.


	4. The Art of Everything Gets Fucked Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's FINALLY TIME! Hope's art is in THIS CHAPTER!!! The art that she shared with me over a year ago and then beyond patiently waited for me to write this. Enjoy!
> 
> Things are getting real in this chapter! The angst is here. (With a reassurance that it is happily ever after next chapter, promise!) 
> 
> If you need more (spoilery of course) details, check out the author's note at the end of the chapter.

# 4

Steve noticed, not for the first time, that Bucky seemed to deflate when he glanced at his phone. He’d done the same thing when they painted together. Just like that evening, Bucky shoved his phone back in his pocket without responding. 

If it’d been just the two of them, Steve might have found the courage to ask, but right now his mind was swirling in a mix of replaying the last few minutes of his life, trying to tease out why Bucky had said he loved him—they hadn’t discussed using declarations of love. Honestly, Steve hadn’t even considered it as a possibility.

"Well you'll be happy to know I've volunteered Sam to speak at the gala too," Natasha said as she speared a piece of her steak. 

"Great. I'll speak first and anything you come up with will be amazing in comparison," Steve said to Sam.

"We just need a theme, something to riff off of. How about something about the lives we touch?" Sam mused. Bucky snorted and Sam put up a hand. "I hear what I said. Don't you say it!"

Bucky giggled, clearly unable to keep his thoughts to himself. "We sure touch a lot of...lives, yeah! Big, pulsing lives."

The glare Sam fixed Bucky with was withering, but Bucky seemed oblivious, and Steve couldn't help but laugh at the stand off.

"That's good. I'll let you warm up the crowd with that joke." Belatedly, Steve realized how happy he was to see that Bucky no longer carried the tension in his shoulders that had cropped up when he looked at his phone. It had dissipated, a forgotten relic of several minutes past.

Steve really wanted to know what was up with that. A sick relative perhaps? But did fake boyfriends ask about that sort of thing? He remembered Natasha's warning that Bucky wasn't the most emotionally available person. And he still didn't know how to bring up the "love" word that Bucky had so casually tossed around.

"Lord, you're just as lovesick as he is!" Natasha said, shaking her head. "I've never seen you play with your food while making moon eyes at someone before, but it’s rather adorable." She pushed her empty plate to the end of the table and smiled like a proud mother hen. "Good for you two, finally going for it. About time, really. I know I said some things to you, Steve, but it seems like you guys talked it over."

Steve winced and hoped Bucky was too drunk to pick up on the implications behind Nat's words. Seeing as Bucky was still trying to convince his broccoli to stay on his fork, Steve figured he was safe.

Natasha and Sam kept on about speeches while Steve considered how lucky (was that the right word?) he was that Bucky agreed to do this for a whole month. They needed time to practice, to perfect whatever it was they were doing. They turned down desserts, and Steve decided that if dinner had been any indication, the gala could have been a disaster if they had attempted to wing it.

"See you lovebirds later!" Sam waved as they headed their separate ways, and Steve found himself standing alone with Bucky.

"Hey," he said, toeing at the sidewalk. "If you're feeling up to it, maybe we should, uh, talk some more about our situation?"

Bucky smiled at him, his cheeks still flushed pink. "Bonus date time? You are the best, aren't you?"

Heat crept up Steve's neck at Bucky's offhand, casual compliment. "More like, bonus you get another cup of water so you don't get a hangover time. You mind my apartment? I think it’s closer."

"Second date and you're inviting me up?" Bucky grinned and wiggled his hips, bumping up against Steve's thigh.

People walked past them on the sidewalk, ignored them. They were just any couple at the end of a successful date, making plans together. 

Going home together to talk about how to fake-date better.

Steve second guessed himself every step of the way to his apartment. Thankfully, there weren't that many steps before he was at the front door, unlocking it and waving an already much more sober Bucky inside. 

"Oh my god. Thanks for putting up with me in the restaurant," Bucky said while Steve got down a cup and filled it from the tap. Bucky took the glass and drank it in three big gulps. "That was not my proudest moment."

Steve shrugged in what he hoped was a playful manner. He leaned against the stool by the counter. "Well, if you had gone ahead with an under the table blowjob, it really wouldn't have been the end of the world to me."

Bucky buried his head in his hands. "Just bury my body under a maple tree and call it good. I was convinced Nat was trying to prove to Sam that we weren't really dating."

"Your instincts are usually good, but that's not what she was doing at all." Steve laughed, and, emboldened by the way Bucky groaned, added, "We can still reenact the blowjob part of the evening if you think it'll get it out of your system."

"Oh my god," Bucky repeated, but he looked up from his hands. "If you're that hard up for me to get on your dick, just ask."

Steve took one look at Bucky's sparkling eyes and decided they could talk about his declaration of love later. That impending discussion was a million times more intimidating than asking for a blow job.

"Fuck it, yes, will you put those talented lips of yours on my dick?" 

Bucky grinned as he pushed away from the counter, shifting from resigned embarrassment to a predatory prowl. His steps matched Steve’s pulse pounding in his ears; Bucky's gaze pinned him to his stool.

"You're carrying a lot of tension in your shoulders," Bucky purred in Steve's ear, his voice low. "Is fake dating me so stressful?"

"Christ, Bucky, no. I'm still in awe that you didn't just laugh at me for an hour and say no—oh!" The end of Steve's no turned into a soft groan when Bucky reached down and tugged at his zipper, pulling open his fly.

"We all make stupid decisions at some point," Bucky said, putting his hands on Steve's hips and pulling him off the stool to shimmy down the dark jeans and the soft underwear. Steve's half hard cock sprung up. "Like me. I'm always making stupid decisions, saying I'll fake date my coworkers. And then blowing them in their apartment for some stress relief."

The rush of blood between his legs was already dizzying, and Steve's fingers were tangled in Bucky's hair. "You don't have to if you don't want to," he managed to mumble.

"If I didn't want to," Bucky said, kneeling down in front of Steve, "then I wouldn't. Consider it an apology for getting drunk on our date."

Gripping the side of the stool for support, Steve took a sharp breath as Bucky put his beautiful, soft lips on the tip of his cock. "No need to apologize," he said, forgetting how to breath when he looked down.

Bucky's hair was in messy waves around his face, and his tongue was firm, a delightful tease against Steve's cock. The warmth of his mouth enveloped Steve all at once, overwhelming and comforting. Steve's cock twitched at the sudden surge of heat, pressing thickly against Bucky's tongue.

Words were left unspoken as Steve held onto Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky looked up at him from under dark, lush lashes. Bucky's mouth was soft and yielding, but Steve didn't push in deeper. He let Bucky set the pace and went for the ride, stroking Bucky's hair and grabbing fistfuls of the dark strands to steady himself while Bucky traced his dick with his talented tongue. Steve's breaths filled the air with his desperate gasps.

Bucky sucked him in deeper, and Steve's excitement rose sharply, a tight and electric pull in his balls. Warmth spread in waves that threatened to overwhelm him, a pleasant fire that built slow and steady until suddenly it was raging out of control. 

The room was filled with the obscene sound of Bucky's wet mouth on Steve's skin. Every breath Steve took him higher and higher, until he was breathless and more than a little dizzy.

Wrapping two fingers around Steve's balls, Bucky squeezed gently, taking Steve completely in his mouth at the same time. Steve nearly howled. His dick brushed against the back of Bucky's throat, and Bucky grabbed his hip with his other hand, holding him close.

Steve whined, the noise pulling free from deep in his throat. Bucky's lips were stretched around his cock, his cheeks taut with the tension of Steve's entire cock invading his mouth.

"Goddamn, you're so—" Steve tried to gasp out. He moaned, utterly unable to form an intelligble word when Bucky started to fuck himself on Steve's cock with his mouth. "Fuuuuuck," he said with a shudder. 

Pressure rose red hot in his balls, overwhelming like a freight train at full speed, and Steve grunted out a warning that he was going to come. Bucky nodded, his eyes fixed on Steve's.

Sharp, throbbing relief pulsed through Steve's body, each wave heavy and crashing as his cum spilled into Bucky's mouth in several long spurts.

Bucky wiped the back of his mouth before patting Steve on the thigh and tugging up his pants. "There you go, pal! Stress relieved, now we can talk about whatever you want."

In the comfortable haze post orgasm, Steve could almost relax enough to ask. 

He just didn't know what he'd do if Bucky's answer wasn't what he wanted to hear. The stool underneath Steve suddenly felt like it might not support his weight, and he got up and leaned against the counter instead. 

Bucky tilted his head at him. "Did I break you with a single blowjob?"

"No, but if you did that again, I might melt into a puddle of contented bliss. You've made me lose my train of thought," Steve said, toying with the idea of tabling their discussion for a different night.

Any remaining looseness that Steve had attributed to Bucky being drunk disappeared as Bucky stood up very straight with his shoulders pulled back. "You said you wanted to talk about our situation. So just tell me, be upfront. If you don't want to do this anymore, it's no hard feelings."

Steve's post-orgasm focus was still diffuse and broad, and he missed the tiny tremble in Bucky's last words. Something poked at his brain, a seed of a thought that he needed to make this right. He just didn’t know what _ this _ was.

"No, that's not it at all," he managed to say. He had the distinct feeling that if he paused too long, Bucky would read the space between his words, so he barreled on. "Earlier at dinner, you said that you loved me." _ And it made my heart stop because I think I want that to be true. _"And I don't mind, I just…" 

Steve forced himself to meet Bucky's eyes. Completely unreadable storms swirled in those beautiful gray depths. "I was surprised. And I didn't want you to think you had to say that." _ Because I want you to say it when you mean it. _

Bucky patted Steve on the shoulder, three stiff little touches. "I went a little overboard in my acting, but you have my word I won't say it again."

That sentence hurt, stabbed Steve with a surprising amount of pain right through his chest. He blinked. "You don't deserve to have to put up with me."

"Eh," said Bucky, leaning back against the counter and mirroring Steve's pose, "Someone has to. Might as well be me."

*

The next morning, Steve woke up alone and exhausted from a fitful night of 'I need to tell him the truth' sleep. He hadn't managed to ask Bucky about what had bothered him at dinner either.

Steve stretched out in his bed for a solid minute before he even sat up. He yawned. If he had to guess, it was fixing to be a three coffee morning. 

Over his first cup, he was surprised to get a text from Darcy, one of the escort schedulers. 

_ Hey do you mind a last minute booking? Bruce Banner, for 2pm. At his house. _

Steve blinked at the clock. It stared back at him, dark green numbers displaying 9:42. Fuck. He already had an appointment at ten that would take him to one. It would mean a quick lunch, but it wasn't like Bruce to be last minute. He normally scheduled two weeks in advance. Steve could skip lunch for one day to make sure Bruce was ok. Running a hand through his hair and calling it styled, he dressed in a whirlwind of activity and texted Darcy back from the back of a cab. 

_ Yeah, no problem, tell him I’ll be there. Thanks _

Just about four hours later, Steve was stepping out of an Uber and knocking three times on the front door of Bruce’s house, their code to let Bruce know he was about to open the door. The unlocked door swung in with the usual squeak, and Steve put on his best smile, expecting to see Bruce on the couch.

Bruce wasn’t there.

Steve blinked, and for the first time in far too many days, his thoughts detoured from Bucky. “Hey? Bruce? It’s me, Steve.” He took a step inside and looked around. Books covered every surface in the house, and where there weren’t books, there were pages and pages of scribbled notes. “Uh, are you somewhere nearby?”

There wasn’t a response, and Steve bit his lip and considered his options. Scenarios he really didn’t want to think about played through his head. Would Bruce call 911 in an emergency? Or was his best way of getting someone to the house calling in for Steve? Steve took another step. He hadn’t really been through Bruce’s house beyond the living room, didn’t even know where the bedroom was.

Just as Steve was about to call Darcy and confirm that Bruce had made the appointment and sounded ok, he heard something.

“Steve?”

Bruce’s voice was softer than usual, as though he was far away. Thankfully, there was only one hallway behind the living room, so Steve, careful not to step on any notes, headed in that direction. Visions of Bruce hurt and needing help filled his head and he told himself firmly to _ stop that _. 

“Yeah, it’s me! Steve. Where are you?” he tried to keep his voice light and unconcerned as he headed down the hall.

“I’m outside. On the porch.”

Steve stopped for a moment, and then broke out into a giant smile. He made his way down the hallway and saw a screen door at the back. He went through the door to find himself on a screened in porch. Bruce was sitting on a soft porch swing. His smile when Steve came through the door was barely contained.

“Bruce,” Steve began, and paused. He didn’t know what to say, but he knew he didn’t want to make him feel bad, so he didn’t. “Look at you.”

“Just for a few more minutes and then I have to get back inside before everything starts spinning too much,” Bruce assured him, but even still—the sunlight that filtered through the screen danced through his curls. He looked more at peace than Steve had seen him in awhile. 

“Would you like me to sit with you?” Steve asked.

“Please,” Bruce said. He touched the cushion next to him. “I think it’ll help me to have your presence.”

Steve nodded as he stepped onto the porch and carefully sat down, his thigh pressed against Bruce’s.

“Oh, yes, that’s good,” Bruce said, leaning into Steve's chest. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” Steve said.

The air was warm, the sun gentle on their bodies, and Steve could have sat out there for hours if Bruce wanted. True to his word, after a few more minutes, he nodded toward the door. 

“I still feel ok, but I’d rather go inside now than wait until I don’t. If that’s okay with you.”

“Of course it is,” Steve assured him. “We’ve still got plenty of time. Would you like to go to the couch?”

Bruce nodded, but he seemed preoccupied as they walked back up the hallway. He kept glancing down at the notes on the floor and pausing, presumably reading bits here and there. He picked up a few pages near one of the closed doors and nodded to himself before putting them over on another table.

“Looks like you’ve been working hard on something,” Steve said when they got back to the living room.

“Oh yes.” Bruce gestured to half of the room. “I’ve almost gotten it figured out and honestly, it’s a weight off of my shoulders already.”

“Glad to hear it!” Steve sat down in his usual spot on the couch and Bruce sat next to him.

“How about you?” Bruce asked. “Figured out your gala speech?”

Steve paused and bit his lip.

Bruce blinked at him. “That bad?”

Steve laughed. “Yeah. Kind of.” He looked around the room and did his best not to think about Bucky. It had almost worked, this distraction, but one stray thought and he was right back to square one. “But I guess I’ve still got two weeks. I’ll figure something out.”

“I know you will.”

Bruce’s quiet confidence was comforting, but all Steve could picture was Bucky’s face falling when he looked at his phone. And Steve hadn’t asked if there was anything he could do to help. 

He’d asked for a blowjob.

Christ, it was a good thing he hadn’t dated; he was clearly a disaster.

“You’ve got a lot on your mind,” Bruce said, and Steve nodded. He wasn’t going to burden Bruce with his problems, but he couldn’t lie when it was obvious.

“Sorry. I’ll get out of my thoughts and be present with you here,” Steve apologized, the tips of his ears burning. It wasn’t like him to be so rude.

“I asked. I don’t mind hearing about it.”

Steve looked up at the ceiling for a moment to clear his thoughts. It probably was for the best to not admit that since he’d last seen Bruce, he’d started a pretend relationship with a coworker that he actually wanted to date. Outside of that, what was there to say except, “It’s been more complicated than I expected. The good news is one of my other coworkers agreed to speak, too. I told him I’d go first so he’d look better after I bombed.”

Bruce laughed, and for a moment, Steve thought about telling him everything. Bruce didn’t know anyone else; it was probably safe. But he wasn’t here to do that. So he sighed and tried to figure out the best way to frame his situation. 

“I thought that I was making a reasonably good decision,” Steve said, omitting literally every detail. “One that would make sense given the circumstances. But I’ve been questioning that decision for a variety of reasons ever since I made it.”

“Ah,” Bruce said, falling into quiet contemplation. 

Steve nodded. What else was there to say? “I’m afraid if I change my mind, people will be hurt.” 

“The way I see things,” Bruce said finally, “Is that you seem to know what the right answer is, but something’s holding you back from making that choice. You know you’d tell me to listen not to my brain, but to my heart. I’m telling you to do the same.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you that,” Steve protested, but Bruce cut him off with a look.

“Not in so many words, no.” Bruce snuggled against Steve, and closed his eyes. “It’s been a busy day for me. Sitting outside and helping you with your love life.”

Steve tried not to let out all of the air in his lungs in a scream. “How’d you guess?”

“I may not be able to leave my house, but I’m not an idiot,” Bruce said. “You wouldn’t need to beat around the details if it were just about a speech.”

“Fair. You found me out.” Steve shifted against the cushion behind him. “I’m so sorry. I’ll tell them to refund your payment for today. I’m being ridiculous.”

“Steve. You’re about to make me angry,” Bruce said quietly. “Is it so bad to open up to someone else?”

“Well, of course not!” Steve said immediately. “But that’s not why I’m here for you.”

“I thought you were here to keep me company and if we happen to have a conversation about you, then so be it.” Bruce leveled Steve with another glare, and Steve was struck by how intense it was. He nodded slowly.

“Sorry. You’re right. Here’s the thing.” Steve focused on a book across the room. “I’m an idiot.” He didn’t make eye contact with Bruce as he spilled out the details of the past few weeks, and then he sat there, still not daring to look at Bruce. “You see what I mean?”

“Uh. Gosh.” Bruce nodded a couple of times. “That’s a bit of a situation. I’m actually honestly impressed. I don’t know if you’ve just seen too many TV shows or movies or something, because I’ve never imagined that sort of thing really… happens.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh, deep in his throat. “Oh my god. Yeah. It happened. It’s happening.”

“I’m not an expert, but all signs point to, just tell him how you feel. How you really feel.” Bruce patted Steve on the shoulder. “If it helps, I’m rooting for you.”

Steve nodded, trying to imagine how Bucky would react. But Bruce was right. He owed it to Bucky to come clean, the gala be damned. “Thanks, Bruce. Who knows, maybe next gala you’ll be able to come and watch me fail spectacularly in person.”

“I haven’t told my therapist yet, but it is a long term goal of mine,” Bruce said in a confiding tone, and the two of them shared another laugh. 

*

The next morning, when Bucky woke up, he rubbed his eyes, convinced that his eyeballs had replaced themselves with enough sand to fill in a desert. He rubbed them again. There was possibly a cactus too. Ever since his talk with Steve, it'd been harder to sleep at night. But he'd promised Sam last week that they would run together this week, so he swung his legs out of bed and groaned.

Past-Bucky was a dick.

A splash of ice cold water and a shot of espresso later, Bucky was waving at Sam in Central Park, who was way too chipper for fuck-off o'clock.

"You look like you wrestled a bear," Sam noted by way of greeting.

"You should see the other guy," Bucky mumbled. The fresh air was nice, much nicer than the stale air in his apartment for the last few days as he had moped around ignoring Brock's texts.

"You not sleeping well?" Sam asked as they jogged, passing only a handful of other early risers.

Bucky shrugged. "Just a random bout of insomnia."

Brock had texted last night _ pls call when ur able, sad to not hear from u yet _ and honestly? Part of Bucky was really impressed. He would have expected Brock to bring out the insults and the threats by now. Maybe he really had changed.

That thought jolted through Bucky in a way the espresso hadn't, and he picked up the pace as if he just tried hard enough, he might be able to outrun his thoughts. Sam didn't comment as he matched Bucky's steps.

Maybe Brock wasn't Steve, but he wanted Bucky. Maybe that was enough? Bucky needed a few more days to stew on it before making any decisions. His newfound burst of energy didn't last, and he slowed back down with Sam following suit.

"You're all over the place this morning," he said as they came to a stop, and Bucky had nothing to contribute except a grunt.

Sam put his hands up. "I get it. Steve's been keeping you up at night. I don't need the juicy details."

"I haven't talked to Steve in three days," Bucky blurted out before he could stop himself. "He's working, then I'm working. We haven't had five minutes to ourselves."

Sam's whole demeanor changed. He went from teasing to thoughtful and sympathetic. "That sucks, man. New relationship and can't even enjoy it. Work’s been ridiculous for all of us, but I bet after the gala, things will calm down."

"Probably," Bucky said, miserable. He hadn't meant to steer the conversation to his non-existent love life, but between Brock and Steve, he was starting to lose his mind. Should he talk to Steve about the feelings he had? Did he tell Brock he just needed a little more time?

"You look worse than a newbie after their first blowjob," Sam said. "I can't pretend to know everything going on between you and Steve, but I know that if he wants to date you, then a few busy days of work won't come between you."

"I just…" Bucky trailed off, not sure how to explain that Steve _ didn't _ want to date him and they'd break up in two weeks after the gala. He wanted to bury his head in his hands, to disappear into the trees, anything to let him forget that. 

Sam shook his head and put a finger up. "We've been jogging for half an hour, and you haven't tried to insult me once. That's it. You look like a kicked puppy and I cannot deal with it. We are finishing this lap and getting a croissant."

"I didn't know you had it in you to be nice like that," Bucky said.

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" Sam raised an eyebrow. "That’s a bit more like the Bucky I know. Oh, and I’m setting the pace for this last lap. Breakfast's on me if you keep up."

Sam took off like a shot, and, cursing and smiling, Bucky followed. He wasn't sure he could catch up, but he'd be damned if he didn't try.

Fifteen minutes later, they were cooling down by walking to a nearby bakery. While Sam went up to the counter to order, Bucky checked his phone. He still hadn’t replied to Brock’s last text. Replaying his conversation with Sam again, he decided to reply with _ work’s been busy af _ and leave it at that. There wasn’t an immediate text back, and Bucky figured Brock was probably still asleep, as was most of the city.

“Thanks for the croissant, buddy,” Bucky said as he licked his fingers several minutes later. “I do feel much better now, although it could just be that the sun’s finally gotten the memo and risen, letting my body know it’s ok to be awake now.”

“So I’ll see you next week for a run, same time?” Sam asked with an innocent grin.

Bucky grumbled, but he nodded. He couldn’t help but wonder where he’d be with Steve in a week’s time. He checked his phone, wondering if Brock had replied and hopeful that Steve had decided to text him. 

He had no new messages.

*

Two days later, and Steve was practically dying as he climbed the stairs to the third floor at work. He still hadn’t been able to get together with Bucky, though he’d finally texted him a few times, just asking how he was doing. Then he’d been wracked with guilt. He didn’t want to take up any more of Bucky’s time without talking to him in person again about their whole situation. 

One of Steve’s occasional clients, Frank, had requested him and Bucky together for the evening. Frank was a quiet client who didn't say much. He showed up, did his thing, and made Steve think he was one of those guys that thought taking it in the ass was too "gay" but topping was ok. He tipped well enough and never said anything out loud, so all Steve had to go on was a vibe.

Steve took the stairs two at a time for the last flight, figuring he could get to the floor early to catch Bucky for a few minutes before they were officially on the clock. He waved to Sam who was in the hallway between jobs before heading into the room.

"Hey, Steve!" Bucky said when he came through the door. In his jeans and a gray t shirt, he was gorgeous, and his smile lit up his face like a beacon. 

Steve was a moth heading to Bucky’s fire. "Gosh, I thought I'd just about forgotten what your face looks like," he joked. "How have you been?" 

There was so much more in that question that he wanted to ask, so many things he wanted specify. But he waited for Bucky's answer and hoped somehow he'd read his mind and absolve him of everything.

Bucky shrugged, his smile going a little dimmer, and Steve cursed himself for not being able to go back in time and do this _ right _, to go back and ask him out for real and risk being turned down for real.

"That bad?" Steve joked, shoving his hands in his pockets. They didn't have time to hash anything out right now. What did he think they were going to do in the two minutes before Frank showed up?

"It is what it is." Bucky nodded to their room. "Let's get set up. I'll be honest. I saw it was one of your regulars and I was an add-on, so I didn't really look into the assignment. What are we doing?" He opened the door and went inside. "Or I guess I should say, who are we doing?"

"Ok," Steve said as he followed Bucky in. “His name is Frank. The guy’s not the best client, but he’s respectful enough to not be on the list or anything. I haven’t had to talk to him about it, honestly. It’s just my read on him.”

Bucky hummed, noncommittal. “Sounds pleasant. Too bad we can’t get Scott back in here. Now that was a good evening.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. Too bad he couldn’t go back to when they spent the night together after Scott and just confess everything he felt for Bucky.

There wasn't much left to prepare, and Steve got out some lube and condoms while Bucky made sure back-ups were available in a few other locations to help prevent a break in the action. They were, after all, professionals. Steve headed over to the back dresser, and got out a set of handcuffs. The key was on a length of string that he slipped on over his head.

Bucky stopped where he was by the bed and made a face before rearranging his expression into something more neutral. 

Steve sighed. "Yeah, he did the extra fee for a bit of bondage, is that ok? I didn't realize you didn't look over the assignment."

There was a long pause and then Bucky nodded very slowly, almost like he'd forgotten how to move his head. "That's on me for not looking. Honestly I was just so happy to see you—to be working with you again that I didn't consider—" He paused again, fiddling with the corner of the blankets instead of pulling them down. "Yeah, it's fine."

Steve wanted to probe, to find out what was bothering him and to reassure Bucky that he didn't have to do anything he wasn't comfortable with. He put his hand over Bucky’s in what he hoped was a comforting manner, and helped him pull down the blanket. His sigh of relief was quiet but audible when Bucky smiled at him. 

“Let me help you out of this shirt, hmm?” Bucky asked. He fingered the hem of Steve’s t-shirt, and Steve managed not to lace his fingers through Bucky’s. “That’s the prompt, right? I did skim the paper,” he added, lifting up Steve’s shirt over his head. The handcuff key rose up with the shirt.

Steve blew out a short breath as Bucky tossed his shirt to the side and the key fell back on his chest. “Yeah. His request was that he ‘comes home’ to see his two roommates about to go at it.”

Bucky did that slow nod again, his eyes fixed on the key. Steve frowned, but before he could say anything, Bucky had hooked his thumbs into Steve’s belt loops. “You wanna get those off too, make yourself comfortable?” he purred, his voice deep and throaty.

Damn, Bucky was good. And sure, maybe Bucky’s voice was for show even if Frank wasn’t here yet, but a very real warm heat was already rising in Steve’s groin. He cocked a smile at Bucky. “Let me get you out of those uncomfortable things first, baby.”

His fingers were already pressed against Bucky’s back, and Bucky rubbed against them, daring Steve to make good on his promise. Steve peeled Bucky’s shirt up, enjoying the way Bucky’s breath hitched as his skin was exposed inch by inch. 

“You always take such good care of me,” Bucky mumbled, almost impossible to hear. Steve paused, positive he was putting words in Bucky’s mouth.

“Gonna do my best, make this fun for you,” Steve promised. If Bucky hadn’t said anything, it still worked. The shy smile Bucky wore when Steve pulled his shirt over his head was radiant. _ God _, Steve wanted that smile to be real and not just for work. “Let’s get those pants off too.”

“Ok, Steve.” Bucky tilted his hips forward, presenting his crotch for Steve’s inspection.

Steve _ wanted _ to kiss Bucky’s lower lip, taste him on his tongue, but he knew that would be out of place without their client in the room to watch. He flicked down the fly of Bucky’s jeans instead, helping him ease them down his hips.

“Wow, you look amazing,” Steve said, unable to stop himself. Bucky’s underwear was red with black trim, form fitting and more than a touch sheer. The bottom swell of his ass was completely exposed, a soft curve into the thick muscle of his legs.

“Thanks.” A small smile danced on Bucky’s lips as he climbed onto the bed. It disappeared when Steve got on the bed next to him, the handcuffs clinking together.

“You sure you don’t mind?” Steve couldn’t cuff Bucky up in good conscious without confirming it one more time.

“I don’t mind,” Bucky repeated the words back with a stiffness to them that Steve hadn’t heard before. 

Steve regretted not finding more than two minutes to try to talk to Bucky in the past few days. He wasn’t sure if Bucky was simply miffed about their fake dating arrangement or if he didn’t want the cuffs or if this was about something entirely different altogether. But Bucky was holding out his hand, and eyeing the key on Steve’s chest. 

If Bucky started to look uncomfortable, Steve decided he would just cut the scene short. Satisfied with his compromise to himself, Steve's smile was completely genuine as he scooted closer to Bucky, the bed moving minutely with the motion.

Bucky stretched himself out on the bed and Steve kneeled next to him, reaching to get the handcuff in place. Before he could put one loop on Bucky's wrist, the door swung open.

"Well, well, well," came a voice, and Bucky froze beneath Steve, twisting his head toward the door. 

Steve looked up to see Frank, who was grinning with all of his teeth, a feral look like he was about to pounce. Steve frowned, instantly uneasy with the situation. Bucky had frozen like a deer in the headlights. 

"Work's been busy, hasn't it, Bucky?" Frank said, advancing into the room and addressing Bucky with a familiarity that had Steve’s skin crawling. "No problem. I'm a _ problem solver _. I figured, I'll come to you." 

"You know Frank?" Steve asked Bucky as quietly as he could. The way Bucky was still frozen underneath him had his blood boiling. He wasn't sure what was going on or what had happened between them, but he wasn't going to let anyone talk to Bucky like that.

"Bucky and I go way back. He might have mentioned that Frank is my middle name. That most people know me by Brock." Brock took another step toward the bed. He seemed delighted to see the confusion that flashed on Steve's face. "Oh, is that right? He's never mentioned me?"

"That's enough," Steve said firmly, getting off the bed and moving between them. "Look, I don't know what’s going on here, but if you’re going to come in here and act like this, you’re going to have to leave—"

Brock cut him off with an air of arrogance. "Hey, it's ok, it's all good. Let's ask Bucky what he thinks. I bet he says let's go ahead and do what we planned. After all, he's a _ professional _."

Steve only just managed not to punch Brock's smug face. He turned to Bucky, concerned that he hadn't said anything yet. Bucky's face was pale, his usually red lips a faint pink.

"What do you want to do?" Steve asked, trying to assess the situation before he made a decision on Bucky’s behalf. But Bucky seemed like he might not even reply, and the tension in the room folded in on itself over and over like a black hole of doubt.

"I'm good," mumbled Bucky, not making eye contact with Steve or Brock. He turned to the bed and stuck out his hand. "Let's do this."

"Sounds good to me," Brock said. "Alright, he's given the green light. Whatdya say, big guy? Let's do what I paid for."

Steve paused, fingering the handcuffs still in his hand. The last thing he wanted to do was put that cuff around Bucky's wrist.

"Steve. Come on." Bucky stuck his hand out farther. His face was buried in the pillow, muffling his words, but the hand was a clear indication. 

Brock's grin was incandescent. "Go on, Steve. Do what he's asking for."

The handcuffs seemed impossibly heavy for their size, the key almost burning its shape against his chest. 

"Bucky, are you sure this is ok?" Steve finally said, unable to bring himself to slap the metal on Bucky's wrist. 

"You're the one with the cuffs, aren't you?" Brock prodded. "I didn't take you for such a girl."

"That's enough!" Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "You need to go."

"Steve, what the hell are you doing?" Bucky’s sudden exclamation was forceful. "Just put the fucking cuff on me."

Steve hesitated again. He didn't want to touch Bucky, not like this. But he also didn't want to deny Bucky’s agency. The metal clanged as he opened the cuff and took Bucky’s hand, holding Bucky’s wrist with as much care as he could manage and ignoring Brock behind them like he was just a bad dream. The handcuff clipped into place, the metal links clanking loudly as Steve brought the other end to the bedpost.

The clink of the second cuff locking almost seemed to echo in the room, a loud, final sound. Bucky tensed under Steve again, and Steve tried not to pull out his hair in frustration. He took a deep breath, and turned to Brock with as civil of a face as he could manage.

"Done. What's next?" 

Brock appraised the situation in front of him, his eyes on Bucky with a horrible glint. Steve wanted to scream. This was not how it was supposed to go, and something tugged at his insides, twisted them. Told him he needed to act. 

Facedown on the bed, Bucky was still and quiet, not at all how he reacted with any of their other clients. Even when Peggy came to play, Bucky would participate with an easy air, even if he didn't care for the blindfolds and toys.

"So how do you know my roommate?" Steve tried, playing to the scenario Brock had requested.

Brock grinned and nodded. "Oh, Bucky here? He's a good friend of mine. Haven't seen him for awhile. Always tells me he's busy with work. But I'm guessing work is code for getting on his back for you."

Steve flinched. "Don't go there," he warned. "No derogatory insinuations."

Somehow, Bucky seemed to go even stiller, and Steve tried not to take it personally. He didn't know what history there was between Brock and Bucky, but he was willing to bet that it wasn't anything good. 

Brock put his hands up in a placating manner. "Got it, boss," he said, his gaze still planted firmly on Bucky. He made eye contact with Steve for a brief moment. "I got too carried away in the moment, in the realness of your excellent acting. Won't happen again."

Steve didn't bother to hide his eye roll, but Brock was already advancing on Bucky, just a step away from the bed.

"You're so pretty like this, baby," Brock purred, all overly sweet. His voice ground like rocks on Steve's ears. "Laid out and spread so sweet for your buddy, your pal Steve here, bet you know exactly how his cock feels in your ass."

Brock slid a hand over Bucky’s thigh, stopping at his underwear and slipping a finger under the elastic. Bucky shifted his hips, moving like he was made of stone. Steve bit his lip, and, trying to salvage the situation as best as he could, climbed onto the bed on Bucky’s other side. He put a hand on Bucky’s waist and a little surge of joy jumped through him when Bucky didn’t flinch. It was such a low bar that the joy instantly dissipated into the tension of the room. 

“Would you like me to show you how he likes to be touched?” Steve offered. Maybe he could offer some comfort to Bucky.

“Bold of you to assume I don’t know exactly what he likes,” Brock said. He dragged his fingers along Bucky’s ass, tracing the curve until his hand was between Bucky’s legs. “Don’t I know exactly what you like?” he added, directing the question to Bucky.

Bucky nodded, his face turned away from both of them. He spread his legs, shifting his weight to his knees. Brock yanked his underwear down his thighs, not bothering to help Bucky out of them. He didn't waste any time tracing a line to Bucky's hole.

Steve couldn't remember a time when he'd been this uneasy on the job. From the way Brock was feeling up Bucky, he had a sneaking suspicion that he was just here to watch and be upset.

"Gonna go ahead and get you ready, babe. Gonna fuck you while you're all tied up." Brock grinned at Steve. "Bet it's gonna be the best you've had...since the last time my cock was in you."

When Brock turned back to Bucky, Steve scowled, but Brock hadn't broken any rules. He was just being an ass. 

Steve ran his hand up and down Bucky's back. "There's lube and condoms on the table," Steve said, ready to physically fight Brock if he thought for even a moment that he could get away with not using a condom.

Brock patted Bucky's ass and grabbed the condom with no sass. He tossed the lube on the bed and rolled a condom on. Steve was annoyed that Brock was already hard despite Bucky's reluctance. 

"Don't stop touching him for my sake," Brock said, his grin menacing.

"You doing ok, Buck?" Steve asked, hoping that Bucky would just say no so they could end this farce.

Bucky's reply was a muffled "doing peachy keen," with enough sarcasm to kill a cow.

"You heard the man," Brock declared. He was still standing on the floor next to the bed, grabbing the lube and pouring some in his hands . Even though he wasn't as tall as Steve, it didn't seem to bother him at all; he acted like he was daring Steve to stop him.

What happened next was a blur. Brock smeared some lube on his fingers and made like he was about to prep Bucky when he grabbed Bucky's hips, twisted him toward the edge of the bed, and forced his way in. 

Bucky yelped at the sudden intrusion and when Brock laughed, Steve saw red. He jumped down from the bed and ripped Brock away from Bucky, dragging him to the door. Even as he marched him away from Bucky, Brock didn't seem to care. 

"So sorry to hurt you, _ Bucky _," Brock sneered, his arm pinned by Steve. Bucky just talked around Steve’s body, hurling insults at Bucky. "Guess I thought your little boyfriend here would have loosened you up but I guess not. You fucking fairy, thinking you're better than me, that you're—"

Steve slapped a hand over Brock's mouth, careful to keep his fingers firm against his jaw so he couldn't try to bite him.

"Don't you fucking dare," Steve said, opening the door and shoving Brock out. He motioned to Sam, who was down the hall. 

Sam took one look at Steve and nodded. "I'll get security."

"Thanks, Sam," Steve said. He held Brock against the wall. "I don’t know what’s wrong with you. You don't fucking act like that. I don't know what you think you've got with Bucky, but you don't have shit with him. You think you're so—"

Sam returned with security and a blanket. The security guard motioned for Brock to come forward and wrapped the blanket around him.

"I fucking get it, you psycho," Brock spat, rubbing his wrists. "You want to make sure he thinks your tiny dick is satisfying—"

The security officer restrained Brock's hands behind his back and began heading towards the elevators. "Sir, that's quite enough. You're already lost your chance to be escorted off the premises without a safety citation. Let's try to avoid an arrest for violence against a worker too, shall we?"

Brock's face twisted in anger, but he didn't say anything else and Steve thanked Sam before running back into the room.

Steve fumbled with the key around his neck for a moment, ripping it off the string. "Bucky! I am so, so sorry I didn't just kick him out of here the moment he showed up." He slid it into the keyhole in a swift motion. The cuff sprung open. "God. Are you ok?"

For a too-long moment, Bucky didn't move his hand, didn’t say a word. But then he turned around, and he was glaring at Steve. Dried tears streaked his red face.

"Where the fuck do you get off, thinking I need you to play my savior?" Bucky snarled. Fresh tears sprung up in the corners of his eyes, and he got off of the bed like it was on fire.

Steve stood stunned as Bucky threw his clothes back on, turned, and left. The door slammed behind him.

With the events of the last few minutes playing on repeat, Steve pulled on his shirt and sat on the bed, the handcuffs still swaying from their spot on the headboard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dubcon warning!: Brock books Steve and Bucky and is verbally abusive to Bucky. The dubious consent is Bucky clearly being uncomfortable with the situation but agreeing to go ahead with it.


	5. The Art of Communication

# 5

_ Hey Bucky, I’m sorry for upsetting you yesterday. Please call or text when you feel up to it. I don’t want to bother you if you want me to leave you alone, but I want you to know I’m still here for you no matter what. _

_ * _

_ Bucky—I know it’s been a couple of days. I don’t want to overwhelm you, but I really can’t stand the thought that you might think I don’t care about you. I care more than you might think. This whole situation is a mess. Please call or text me back. _

_ * _

_ Sam told me today it won’t count if he wins this quarter. He stopped short of saying he misses you. He’s got some resources he wanted me to share with you, knows a therapist who works specifically with sex workers. You don’t have to! I just wanted to pass along the information. _

_ * _

_ I miss you. Is it ok to text that? Please, if my texts are bothering you, just text me back an x or anything, and I’ll stop, no questions asked. _

_ It’s just… _

_ I really miss you and I fucked up so bad. More than just the job situation. _

_ * _

_ I heard you were back at work this week. Hope you’re doing well. _

_ * _

_ I hope you know I don’t expect you to go to the gala tomorrow with me if you don’t want to. You’re probably laughing at me for even thinking you were thinking about it. But just in case. I didn’t want you to feel guilty. _

_ Honestly...I didn’t want to do this through text, but I wish I hadn’t asked you to pretend to date me. _

_ Not because I don’t want people to think we’re together. Not because I don’t like you. _

_ But because I like you, Bucky. I like you a lot, and I was an idiot for dancing around that and trying to save my feelings in case you didn’t like me too. _

_ Fuck. I just realized that this could come across as me trying to guilt you for not texting back. It’s not. Sometimes my fingers move faster than my brain I think. I'm going to stop texting now in case it's upsetting you, but know that you can text me if you want. _

_ * _

Bucky stared at his phone, the glare lighting up a small part of his bedroom. Steve had been texting him on and off since...that job where Brock showed up.

Bucky swallowed heavily. The events of that day kept playing back at inopportune times, and he was sick of it. The only problem was, he wasn't sure what was worse. The way Brock had tried to tear him down or the way he'd replied to Steve in his frustration and anger. 

He hadn't even looked at the texts from Steve, was too scared to see what they said. Steve had seen how he acted with Brock, how he’d laid down and taken all of the abuse without saying a word to defend himself. 

Instead, he'd yelled at Steve for helping him. 

The glow of his phone dimmed, then faded, and the darkness of the room fell around Bucky again. When Brock had been breathing down his neck, filling the room with his awful presence, it had seemed so clear to Bucky—they were there to do a job, and Steve was the one messing it up by acting like Bucky couldn't take care of himself, couldn't make his own decisions.

Bucky heaved a sigh and rolled onto his back. His pillow was too warm. He sat up just enough to reach back and flip it over. 

The gala was tomorrow. Bucky wondered if Steve expected to see him there. His phone screen lit up with its still unread messages. 

Was he really going to let Brock win? Bucky rolled his eyes. He already had. To think he'd thought Brock had changed. He pushed the heels of his hands to his eyes, suddenly furious. How stupid could he be?

A quiet, tiny voice at the back of his head reminded Bucky that he had only gone to Brock because he was scared of how much he wanted Steve. 

Hands shaking more than he wanted to admit, Bucky opened his phone. Steve had left 10 messages since the incident.

Bucky started to scroll up to start at the beginning when the words _ I like you a lot _ and _ my feelings _ jumped out at him. Bucky's finger froze over the screen as he read Steve's last message. 

He read it again. 

And one more time. 

He held out both his arms to make sure he wasn't having a stroke and misreading the screen.

Steve cared about him.

Bucky was in his faded gray pajama pants and wrapped in his favorite soft blanket in the middle of his dark room, and Steve liked him, actually liked him.

The other messages were just as touching, and Bucky reread everything six times before he put his phone down again. His fingers itched to type out a message to Steve, to call him and let him know that yes—he really liked him too.

But first? Bucky didn't want Brock to come between them ever again. That awful evening replayed itself again, and for the first time, it was crystal clear, like Bucky had cleaned the mirror; there was no more self-hatred to distort his vision. Instead, he saw the scene for how it was, how Brock pushed all of his buttons to keep him compliant. How Steve tried to diffuse the situation.

Steve barely deserved Bucky, and Bucky realized he couldn't respond to Steve until he dealt with Brock.

Before he could think his plan through, Bucky was getting out of bed and shucking off his PJs in favor of jeans and a red sweater. 

*

Eleven o'clock on a Friday night; there were only a few places Brock might be. Bucky just so happened to luck into walking in the first bar on his list to find him playing darts along the back.

Brock had his arm pulled back and his friends were heckling him as he aimed. Just as he released the dart, Bucky stepped forward and snatched it from its trajectory toward the 5 point section.

"What the fuck?" Brock stepped up and his scowl turned to a grin when he realized who was in front of him. "Oh, look who came crawling back to beg for my cock."

Bucky drew himself to his full height, almost surprised to realize he was taller than Brock; when had he forgotten that? Brock's friends were fanning out behind him, and Bucky had a sudden urge to laugh. Maybe in the morning, things wouldn't seem as clear again, but right now, Bucky realized how pathetic Brock was to try and play Bucky like he had.

"Tell yourself whatever you need to sleep at night. I just happened to be passing by and thought a quick game of darts sounded fun." Bucky spun the dart between his fingers, the feathered tail blurring. He tossed it up in the air and caught it again.

"The hell are you on?" Brock sneered, watching the dart dance from finger to finger. "Give me back my dart."

"You tried to take something from me that wasn't mine," Bucky said. He shrugged, amazed at how casual it was. "You tried to make me think I was worthless because of my job."

Brock rolled his eyes. "I'm not the one who lets other guys—"

Bucky pulled back his fist and threw a punch, connecting solidly with Brock's face. A crunch of pain blossomed behind his knuckles, but Bucky shook it off. Brock's friends crowded around, waiting for his cue. 

Brock touched his face, eyes flashing. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I'm just standing up for something I should have a lot sooner." Bucky considered for a moment, and added, "You're a godawful human. Get some help, pal."

Bucky turned on his heel and tossed the dart at the board. He didn't wait to watch the bull's-eye; he just kept walking. He had plans for tomorrow.

*

Steve straightened his tie for the third time in as many minutes, smoothing down the green silk. His reflection stared back at him, judging him. Try as he might, he couldn't smooth the wrinkles from his forehead as easily as the tie.

"It brings out your eyes." Natasha appeared in the mirror behind him, her gown a soft, forest green organza and her lips in a gentle smile.

Steve turned to face her. "Sam says Bucky looks ok, but I haven’t seen him at all. It's like he's a ghost. What if he never talks to me again?"

Natasha paused, a hand on her hip and her smile fading. "He’s running from you, but you still care.”

"I just want to make it right, Nat." Steve didn't need to look at the mirror to know his forehead was crinkled again.

"I told you Barnes had his own issues to work out," Natasha said, not unkindly. "Hopefully he's getting there. We're all rooting for you two. Your little love story had been the talk of the town. Might have even popped up on a few websites, too."

Steve smiled. The news had traveled fast. But everything had been a lie, and Steve was tired of pretending. The smile bled off of his face.

"You look like you're going to tell me a secret." Natasha's frown mirrored Steve's. "Maybe we don't need to share secrets right now. Maybe give Bucky a little more time and see what happens." Just like that, her whole demeanor changed as she winked at Steve. "Maybe your big secret won't be a problem then."

When Steve opened his mouth to say something anyhow, Natasha leaned in with a smile. She put an ivory gloved finger to his lips. "I meant it when I said we're all pulling for you two, even if it's taken you guys awhile to get your acts together."

This time, the only words out of Steve's mouth were, "Thank you."

As they walked together with arms linked down the hallway, laughter and conversation spilled out of the ballroom and floated over, unable to penetrate Steve’s cloud of gloom. Natasha had assured Steve it wasn’t a pity date, but Steve was bringing enough pitifulness to make it one regardless.

Inside, the ballroom was decorated in cheerful blues and greens and filled with people in all varieties of fancy gowns and suits. They hadn’t taken but five steps before Tony Stark swooped into view, smiling at Steve. Patting Steve on the shoulder just once, Natasha disappeared into the crowd with all the grace an unhelpful accomplice could manage.

“The man of the hour!” Tony said, hand outstretched. Somehow, their handshake ended with Steve holding a drink in his hand. “Glad to see you made it. Everyone’s been looking forward to your speech, of course. Five years since the last one and no one seems to have forgotten! I guess you’ll just have to pull out all the stops. Helps with bringing in the funding like you won’t believe.”

“Good to see you too, Tony,” Steve said with a smile. He sipped at the bubbly champagne and considered how many of them he could reasonably drink within the next half hour, before he had to give his pathetic excuse of a speech.

Pepper, CEO of Stark Escorts, came over a moment later. Her silk dress was stormy blue and she seemed to float like a cloud. “Steve. It’s so lovely to see you here. I trust my husband is following all proper etiquette?”

Tony grinned, putting a hand around her waist. “Steve didn’t have a drink. He does now.”

That seemed as good as any reason for Steve to put the fluted glass against his lips, take another sip, and toast Pepper. He spent the next fifteen minutes meandering around the room, stopping to talk to Rhondey here and Wade there, until Sam found him in the crowd and waved him over.

“You ready for this?” Sam asked.

A waiter came by with more drinks on a tray and Steve grabbed one, replacing it with his empty glass.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to go with no.”

“It’s not that I don’t know what I’m doing,” Steve said, looking at the top of the glass. “It’s just that, as long as I’ve been doing this, I’ve believed strongly in changing attitudes and bringing not just legalization to the profession, but legitimizing it. And what happened with Bucky? It really hammered home that amount of work that’s still left. The fact that you were ready with the name of not one, but two therapists who specialize in escort issues? Another blow. I’m trying my hardest to get this industry someplace and, even putting my own personal issues aside, I’m spinning my gears to get nowhere.” 

“Dare I say that this only proves it is a topic that should be spoken about?” Sam’s words were punctuated by a knowing, unbending stare. 

Steve couldn’t keep eye contact. He lowered his gaze to Sam’s pocket square. It was a vivid, deep green, highlighting the dark brown of his eyes. But Steve wasn’t there to admire his friend’s excellent fashion choices. Sam was right. He was here to bring a voice to the industry.

“Come on,” Sam said, his hand friendly on Steve’s shoulder. “Let’s go get ready. It’s almost time.”

Steve nodded. He downed half the glass and put it on the next passing tray. They made their way around the room, Sam on Steve’s right and Steve wishing that Bucky was on his left. Somehow, Steve found himself behind the small stage set up for the event.

“Looking good, guys,” Maria greeted them with microphones. She began clipping Sam’s up first. 

Sam smoothed out the wire on his suit coat. “It’s a great turn out. I can only hope they’re ready to take this wave of celebration beyond New York.”

Maria hummed her agreement as she clipped the preamplifier to Sam's belt and tucked it under his jacket. "There. You look perfect!” 

“Hello New York!” Tony’s voice filled the room from where he’d apparently vaulted onto the stage, seeing as Steve and Sam were blocking the only set of stairs. People quieted as they turned to the source of noise. “It’s been a great five years since we’ve seen each other last, right? You get what I’m saying! That guy gets it.”

It was a reluctant countdown, waiting for Tony to finish his piece and knowing that once Sam climbed up the stairs, there were only minutes before Steve would have to say something. The crowd was full of faces; some familiar, some not. Steve sighed quietly and stretched out his arms.

He wished he saw Bucky’s face in the crowd. On stage, Tony introduced Sam to the crowd and several loud whistles rose up as people cheered and clapped for one of the faces of Stark Escorts. Sam waved, and launched into his well-practiced, emphatic speech.

It wasn’t that Steve had really thought Bucky would show up for the gala, seeing as Bucky hadn’t texted, hadn’t tried to contact him, and _ had _ gone out of his way to make sure they didn’t see each other at work for a week. In fact, it was one of the most unlikely things Steve could think of. But that didn’t stop his heart from hoping, his very being wishing that Bucky would materialize in front of him. He would apologize in front of everyone if it meant getting Bucky to sit down for a proper conversation.

Another round of applause went up, and Steve took a steadying, deep breath. He put on his very best “I’m going to leave you satisfied” smile and bounded up the stairs.

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve said. He looked out at everyone again, refusing to acknowledge the wave of disappointment that pressed against his heart when he had to confront that Bucky really, truly wasn’t there. “Five years has treated most of us well, hasn’t it?” Bucky might not be present, but Steve kept him in his heart as he spoke. “Legalization has been a blessing for us here in New York. For the most part, we’ve had access to actual HR and, yes, 8 am meetings on Mondays. But like Sam touched on, it hasn’t been the paradise that people like to paint it as.

We can’t stop here. Not only do we need to push for legislation in other cities and states, we also have to continue to refine our own laws and rules to protect sex workers. Only then can we start to change the attitudes from those who still continue to see us as worthy of their scorn and disapproval, even as they use our services.”

People were nodding along with Steve, and a few even looked upset as they considered the implication of his statements. He took in their energy, their concern, and barrelled on. “I’ve spent the last five years providing a service that people deserve to have access to, and I’ll be damned if I let a few bad experiences keep me from doing my job. However, I do believe that we have the ability to rise up and ensure that sex workers don’t have to suffer.”

There was a round of applause, and Steve let out a breath. The audience in front of him blurred together, blues and greens mixing with yellows and oranges. There was Peggy in her impeccable red, Natasha in her soft green. 

And there was Bucky.

Steve blinked, positive his overwhelming desire to see Bucky had summoned his spectre to taunt him. But three blinks later, and Bucky hadn’t disappeared. He stood there at the back of the crowd in a suit of deep blue. If his heartbeat wasn’t roaring in his ears, Steve would have thought his heart had stopped. He closed his eyes for a long moment, and when he opened them, Bucky was still there.

“Five years ago, I said the priority is communication, and I stand by what I said. Communication might seem hard. Sometimes it feels insurmountable. But without it, we’re left with misunderstandings. Things get dangerous. There’s no room in our profession for guesswork. The line of consent must always be seen and respected.”

Another round of applause rose up, but Bucky wasn’t clapping. He stared at Steve, his hands in his pockets and and unreadable set to his lips. Steve kept his eyes on Bucky.

“A month ago, I decided that protecting my heart from an answer I didn’t want to hear was worth purposely miscommunicating with a coworker. It took a critical situation where this person got hurt before I realized how selfish I had been. I’m sorry that I let it go that far. I let a person using our services hurt my coworker. Never again. I’m going to rise up and learn from this catastrophic mistake.”

Bucky’s expression didn’t change, and even as Steve’s stomach swooped low, settling in his feet, he forced himself to look over the crowd as he finished his speech. “I’d like to leave you with this thought: what can you rise up from? Sometimes it’s a painful process, but I’d like to think that in five years, when we congregate again, we’ll be able to celebrate the culture of understanding and acceptance we’ve cultivated from communication.”

People were applauding and cheering, and Steve kept his smile steady. After a few moments, he gathered the strength to see how Bucky was reacting. He glanced over to the back of the crowd, prepared to make eye contact with Bucky.

He was gone.

Steve scanned the crowd again and blinked back a sudden threat of tears. Bucky had been right there, and somehow Steve had lost him again. He waved at the blur of people in front of him, refusing to show anything except confidence as he strode across the stage and took the little flight of stairs to the stage two at a time.

There, against the back wall and almost blending into the shadows, was Bucky. He was standing tall, his eyes clouded with something Steve couldn’t place. Time stretched out in a long moment before Steve pulled his shoulders back and closed the distance between them.

Bucky met him halfway, the noise of everyone else talking and laughing fading into the background as Bucky wrapped his hands around Steve’s waist and held him like a lifeline. Their lips met in a soft, desperate kiss. Bucky smelled like fresh fallen rain and his lips were so warm that combustion couldn’t be far away. Under Steve’s hands, Bucky was warm and solid and real, and Steve marveled at the beautiful heat spreading between their bodies.

“I’m so sorry, Steve. I like you too,” Bucky breathed out, and Steve’s mic picked up every word, Bucky’s confession broadcasting to the room in a puff of feedback before Maria cut the mic.

Someone—Steve thought it sounded like Sam, but he couldn’t tell—whooped, and a bunch of people started clapping again as Bucky buried his head in Steve’s shoulders.

“Well, now you and approximately one million other people know how I feel.” Bucky’s voice was muffled against Steve’s suit jacket.

Steve took Bucky's face in his hands, traced the line of his jaw. "I didn't know what to think,” he admitted. “I didn't realize… I didn't have a name for what I felt for you until–” 

"So let's start over." Bucky's face was flushed as he looked up at Steve. His lips were so red. "Steve, will you be my boyfriend?"

"Yes." Steve ran a finger over Bucky's lips and nodded. "Let's take this somewhere more private?"

"_ God, _yes," Bucky replied, wrapping his arms around Steve in a bone crushing hug. 

Steve nodded to one of the back doors out of the room in an attempt to sneak away without anyone noticing. Sam and Natasha were waiting in the hallway, beaming at them.

"Guess I should have let you blow him under the table and this would have never been a problem," Natasha said, patting Bucky’s shoulder.

"I'm never living that down." Bucky pretended to glare at Natasha, but he couldn't hide his smile.

Steve solemnly looked at Natasha. "To be fair, you're probably preventing another opportunity right now."

"Oh my god." Natasha rolled her eyes, and her smile matched Bucky's. 

"Well, go on then. Have your reunion sex or whatever," Sam said, waving the two of them off. "Nice speech, by the way. Did you write that down?"

"Couldn't have done it without you two," Steve admitted. Now that he had started his confessions, they just seemed to pour out. "I'm sorry for leading you guys on. For lying."

"And here I thought you were annoyed at me for preventing another victory blowjob," Natasha deadpanned. "Trust me. I'll let you know how to make it up to me."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Good luck with that," he told Steve.

Bucky tugged at Steve's hand and he nodded. They turned to leave, but not before Bucky turned back to Sam and Natasha. "Don't think this means we're going to let you two off the hook when you finally stop dancing around your feelings for each other too!"

And then he laughed, pulling Steve's hand again, and the two of them made their way down a blessedly empty hallway.

*

Bucky's suit jacket was silky soft to the touch under Steve's fingers as he helped him out of it. The only thing better than the well constructed suit was the well constructed person wearing it. Steve reveled in the fact that he was here in one of the open Stark Escorts rooms with Bucky,. Downstairs, the gala would go on long into the night, but Bucky was here, and Steve wouldn’t want it any other way.

There was something delightful about using the room to kiss Bucky without preamble, slotting their bodies together for no one else but themselves.

Steve had kissed Bucky a hundred times before; they'd fucked each other for clients time and again, but this time was different. They kissed like teenagers, messy and frantic, touching each other reverently and in awe, hands on each other’s shoulders and backs and tenderly wrapped around each other’s waists.

Bucky's breathless moan against Steve's mouth was more intoxicating than the earlier champagne. His hands snaked around Steve's waist again and pulled him close. 

“Stay tonight,” Bucky said, slipping his leg between Steve’s thighs and rutting against him. “I want to watch you wake up in the morning.”

Bucky’s thigh was thick and warm between Steve’s legs, and he went a little breathless grinding against it. “You’re always awake before me,” Steve teased.

Bucky paused, putting his hand on Steve’s cheek, and smiling, almost shy. “I want you to know I’m admiring you when you wake up this time. Instead of trying to pretend I don’t want you so badly it hurts.”

Steve pressed his hips up against Bucky’s leg so he couldn’t miss his undeniable erection. “Me too.” His voice was deeper and needier than he’d expected, but fuck it. He wanted Bucky to know that he was this hard just from kissing.

The hitch in Bucky’s breath was everything Steve needed. He wanted to wrap himself up in Bucky and kiss him until the line between where Steve ended and Bucky started blurred into a joyful celebration of each other. Bucky smelled like a mix of champagne and soft summer storms, and Steve lost himself in his darkening eyes, his adoring gaze. 

“I never want to leave,” Steve whispered, almost afraid the words would be too loud, would shatter the illusion of what he hoped they were building together.

Bucky pressed kisses along Steve’s jaw, all the way down his chin, stopping to suck lightly on his neck. “Please don’t,” he murmured, his voice vibrating against Steve’s skin.

Steve whimpered, sure he would evaporate from the warmth that enveloped him, a heat that wove into his skin and his cock and down into his toes. He pulled back from Bucky just long enough to shrug off his suit coat, and dove back in, matching Bucky’s kisses on his neck, teasing at the skin just below Bucky’s earlobe. His fingers fumbled blindly for Bucky’s buttons, working them apart from the muscle memory of undoing button down shirts on the job. 

“Why are you wearing an undershirt?” Steve asked, sliding his fingers under the hem of the shirt. Somehow, that seemed more exciting than just touching bare skin, and Steve ran with it, reaching under Bucky’s shirt to run his hands over the just barely covered skin. 

“Trust me, if I had thought—” Bucky cut off when Steve reached up far enough to cup around his chest and pinch his nipple between two fingers. “Mmm. Do it again.”

Steve did. One hand on each pec, he tweaked his nipples gently, not letting up until Bucky was squirming limply and happily beneath his fingers. Steve let him have a moment before doing it again, teasing Bucky’s nipples into hard points under his shirt. 

Bucky whined, rubbing up against Steve again. “You’re going to kill me if you keep doing that.”

Steve smiled, withdrawing his hands from underneath Bucky’s shirt and flicking his nipples through the shirt. “How’s that as a compromise?”

Without waiting for an answer, Steve bent down just enough to mouth at one of Bucky’s nipples through the soft fabric of the shirt. Bucky arched back, his hands busy with Steve’s belt. Steve wasn’t going to complain. He nipped at Bucky’s nipple, the fabric dulling the bite enough that he could do it again and again. 

Bucky’s eyes were closed, his breathing harsh as Steve worked him over. Somewhere during the glorious torture, he’d forgotten to keep working at Steve’s pants, and Steve reached down to push them down himself. The cool air of the room was a welcome relief to the heavy pressure of his fully erect cock. He rutted against Bucky’s leg, lavishing attention on Bucky’s other nipple.

“Steve, please,” Bucky moaned, pushing at his shoulders. “Gonna make me come in my pants.”

Steve’s cock, half covered by his still-buttoned shirt, twitched with the sound of Bucky’s needy, lust deepened voice

"You're doing the same to me," Steve promised in between desperate kisses on Bucky's skin. "I just managed to get my pants off first."

Bucky's hands dropped to his belt, working it open. Steve tugged off his undershirt, and marveled at Bucky’s body. His skin was flushed from shoulders to chest, his stomach covered in a soft sheen of sweat and a dark trail of hair. Steve was happy to follow the path, tracing the warm skin with his fingertips until he found his target; Bucky’s cock was so large and so firm with soft velvety skin that Steve couldn’t help but touch. He wrapped his hand around the base of his dick and stroked lightly, just enough pressure to tease. 

“Will you take me?” Steve asked against the skin of Bucky’s chest.

Bucky nodded, drawing Steve into a protective embrace. Their kisses shifted into something tender and soft as they enjoyed each other’s heat. Steve pressed their hips together and rocked back and forth, his cock brushing against Bucky’s. Even tangled together like they were, they somehow made it to the bed in the room.

Steve lay down across the bed, spreading his legs in a way that he didn’t often do. But it was for Bucky, and the intimate exposure was almost enough to send him over the edge alone. Bucky was looking at him with shining eyes like he was the luckiest guy in the world.

“You should hate me,” Bucky said, crawling onto the bed into the space between Steve’s legs. He ran a firm hand down the inside of Steve’s thigh, setting off every nerve ending and stopping just short of wrapping a hand around Steve’s quivering erection. “I ran. I didn’t give you any explanation.”

Steve reached out to put a hand on Bucky’s. “We had a rough start. We’re moving forward. Tell me that you won’t run, that you’ll talk to me about whatever’s on your mind, and I’ll tell you I’ll do the same.”

Bucky’s smile was uneven and wobbled, but he nodded. He traced a finger around Steve’s puckered entrance. “I promise.”

“Then it’s official,” Steve said, a warm smile blossoming on his face. “I’m yours and you’re mine.”

“It sounds even better when it’s for real,” Bucky replied, reaching for some lube. “For the record, I’m never going along with any of your harebrained schemes again.”

“Fair, but—” Steve cut off as Bucky pressed a warm, slick finger inside him. 

The intrusion was intense at first, a sudden swell of discomfort, but Bucky didn’t go fast. He waited, and Steve slowly relaxed around the digit, his body warming to the idea. Bucky teased at the ring of muscle for a while longer, massaging the skin until Steve was starting to rock against the finger, trying to draw it in farther. Only then did Bucky add a second.

Steve’s body tensed against the added pressure, but that uncomfortable sensation was quickly overwhelmed by the press of Bucky’s fingers against his prostate. Steve hummed, closing his eyes. When he opened them, Bucky was smiling down at him and Steve couldn’t help but grin back. Bucky’s smile was like rays of sunlight on his body, and he relaxed into its warmth. 

He nodded, comfortable and ready. Bucky slipped in another finger, maybe two; Steve couldn’t tell for sure. The sting of intrusion had faded completely now, replaced by an anticipation and excitement. Bucky pushed his fingers in and out, everything slick with lube, and Steve tilted his hips, inviting him to go deeper. Bucky spread his fingers inside him, and Steve breathed out, his cock twitching. 

When Bucky reached over to the drawer to grab a condom, Steve sat up enough to put a hand on his arm. Bucky turned, confusion written in his slightly raised eyebrows.

“We get tested every six weeks. I’m clean. You’re clean. You don’t have to use a condom if you don’t want to,” Steve said, his cheeks burning as he realized at that moment how very much he wanted to have Bucky fuck him bareback. 

“Fair,” Bucky said, tracing the swell of Steve’s chest through the fabric of his still buttoned shirt. “I’m going to put my test results on your refrigerator when I get a chance.”

Steve laughed. 

With copious amounts of lube rubbed over the head of his cock, Bucky guided his dick to rest against Steve’s entrance. Bucky was big, but not overwhelmingly so. His cockhead slipped into Steve’s stretched hole, and Steve adjusted to the heat and firmness of this brilliant new sensation. Steve met Bucky’s eyes and the rest of the room faded into nothing. All Steve saw was the bright, beautiful storm of Bucky’s eyes. The perfect curve of his lips. The warmth in his smile. 

Bucky pushed in slowly, giving Steve plenty of time to adjust, and Steve wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist. He held him there, the two of them wound together like an inseparable spring.

“Let me know how you’re doing,” Bucky murmured, teasing the skin where Steve’s thighs creased, running his fingertips from hip to hip, touching everywhere except for Steve’s heavy, deeply red cock.

Steve rocked his hips up. “So good, Bucky.” He smiled, his tongue between his lips. “Could be even better.”

“It could,” Bucky’s deep voice promised everything as he wrapped his fingers around Steve’s hips and braced himself. 

Steve’s breath was a hiss of enjoyment when Bucky’s fingers tightened against his skin. Bucky fucked him with an unyielding, overwhelming steadiness, like rain pounding against the roof. Steve held on for the ride, his feet crossed behind Bucky’s back. He reached down, and wrapped his fingers around his cock, trying to savor the moment. Bucky made it impossible; the slap of their sweat-sheened skin filled his ears, had warmth building in his groin. It took him to beautiful, dizzying heights, and it was all Steve could do to cling to Bucky and ground himself in his trusting gaze. 

Bucky seemed to sense that change in breathing. With a little snap of his hips, he fucked into Steve, thrusting his dick against Steve’s prostate. Steve saw stars. He had to close his eyes, take a breath, try to center himself. His hand was slippery on his dick, moving frantically as he chased those stars, brought himself as close to the edge as he could. 

He opened his eyes to the image of Bucky, his dark hair a halo around his face, his eyes glassy with concentration and his chest shining with sweat. Steve groaned, mesmerized, as Bucky rolled his hips with a thick, liquid grace. Bucky filled him, his dick warm and velvety smooth and his pace relentless.

Steve’s balls began to draw up as warmth radiated from his groin to his stomach and down his thighs. Like waves crashing down on the shore, Steve surrendered himself to the intensity of the force. 

“Looking so good, Steve,” Bucky encouraged him, his voice so deep and ragged that Steve almost came from that low rumble alone. 

“You’re amazing,” Steve breathed out, slipping his fingers through Bucky’s hair and pulling him in close so they could kiss. 

The all-encompassing heat surrounded them, and when Bucky pressed past his prostate again, Steve gasped. The wave had crested, Bucky had pushed him over the cliff, and Steve fell joyfully, tilting his head back as warm cum began to spurt out of his cock in tingling pulses. Once, twice, three times. A bone-deep comfort and peace settled in his body, and Steve smiled up at Bucky with a grin he was sure was lopsided. 

Whatever Bucky was going to say came out in a choked cry as he came deep inside Steve. The heat, the sheer sensation of his cum filling him had Steve’s cock twitching in a valiant effort to attempt another orgasm. Another little spurt of cum dripped out of the tip of Steve’s cock.

Bucky slid out of him slowly and wiped at him with a corner of the blanket before all but collapsing on top of him. They traded lazy kisses with their eyes closed, adjusting to their new reality. When Bucky made to get up, Steve wrapped his arms and legs around him, keeping him close.

“Good try, but I’ve got to at least piss before I fall asleep,” Bucky said, disentangling himself from Steve’s gorgeous limbs. 

“You think Maria’ll care if we stay here tonight?” Steve asked, closing his eyes again and enjoying the peaceful comfort of their entwined new beginning. “Just for a nap.”

“The room is booked,” Bucky said, the bathroom acoustics lending his words a deep, rich tone. 

Steve tilted his head toward Bucky, unwilling to leave the warmth of the blankets. “Is that so?” he asked.

“Yeah. I had to make sure no one would interrupt us,” Bucky said, before running the water to wash up. God, but his voice was gorgeous. Steve could listen to him talk forever. 

“You knew we’d end up here?” he asked, curious to Bucky’s answer. 

Bucky appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, a towel around his neck and his hair slicked back. A few drops of water fell from the soft tendrils. Bucky nodded as he pushed the towel back, and wiped the wetness from the back of his neck. “I guess it was an abundance of hopefulness.”

“I love you.” Steve’s words came without hesitation. They danced through the room, and Steve realized that they were wound into the very core of his being. 

Bucky’s eyes widened, and the distance between them suddenly seemed too wide. Steve tumbled gracefully out of the bed and closed the space between them. He took Bucky’s hand in his own. Bucky’s fingers were firm, solid. His hand was warm. Steve brought them to his lips.

“Let me start from the beginning,” Steve amended. “Bucky Barnes, will you be my boyfriend? I want you more than words can express.”

A shaky smile spread across Bucky’s lips, and he ducked his head for a moment, his eyes shining. “Yes. God, Steve. I love you too. When I fucked up at restaurant and said it out loud...I thought I was going to die.”

The sweet confession of Bucky’s words washed over Steve like a cleansing rain. He squeezed Bucky’s hand. “Then I guess now’s a great time to tell you how much I wished you were telling the truth.”

“Look at us,” Bucky murmured, pressing a kiss on Steve’s cheek. He leaned his forehead against Steve’s. “A couple of dumbasses in love.”

They settled into the bed like giddy teenagers, laughing and touching. Steve smiled as he stroked Bucky’s hair and traced his fingers along Bucky’s jaw. He couldn’t wait to wake up tomorrow with Bucky in his arms. He had a feeling that together, they were an unstoppable force, ready to change the world. Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to go give Hope's art some love!!! Pick your platform of choice or heck, choose all three and we'll love you forever <3
> 
> [Twitter art post](https://twitter.com/Hopelessgeek1/status/1172174868617412609?s=09)   
[Instagram art post](https://www.instagram.com/p/B2UPKTAFNYB/?igshid=1fia97n6vxvyh)   
[Tumblr art post](https://hopelessartgeek.tumblr.com/post/187672192615/an-escorts-guide-to-navigating-tricky-work)
> 
> Thanks so much for coming on the ride with us, hope it was worth it :)

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/Mystrana_)  
And Hope is on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Hopelessgeek1) too!


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